Serana's Quest
by OmeganQueen
Summary: Convinced by the Dragonborn to cure herself, Serana embarks on a long and perilous journey across Tamriel to find redemption from her curse. Unwilling to let her go by herself, the Dragonborn sends an old ally with a debt to pay to aid his friend in her quest. ( Rated M for obvious reasons )
1. Skyrim

**A/N**

**So while waiting for inspiration on my many ( MANY ) other fanfics, I've decided to write on this thing that's been sitting in the back of my mind for a while now.**

**I've played TESV countless times, and I've always wanted to explore even more with the stories there, especially with the DLC's. Alas, we can only find the satisfaction of making Serana our waifu through mods. I feel your pain, brothers and sisters. Jokes aside, I've also wondered what exactly happened to Serana when you've convinced her to cure herself. What did she do, and how did she do it? After all, one cannot simply undo becoming a Daughter of Coldharbour.**

**Did the long period of her absence have any special implications? So many blank spaces, and nothing to fill them. I hope my imagined story as a solution would be answer enough. As usual, I don't own anything of TESV or its characters, except for my OC's.**

**Also, you already know what the M rating is for. Rape themes are apparent, because Molag Bal. But don't worry, I won't focus my story on that, still warning you though.**

**}!{**

"_Father…"_

_Lord Harkon looked down at his daughter disdainfully, for it was the third time she had given voice to her reluctance over the decided course of action. His reply was harsh, grating like the noise of metal scraping against stone. "Be silent, my daughter."_

_She bit her lip and kept her gaze on the floor. Around them, the purplish flames of the realm of Oblivion danced upon their metal sconches. It was Summoning Day, a time to present their offerings to the Lord of Domination to earn his fleeting favor. Serana hated it, she hated everything of this place. It reeked of depravity, made her skin crawl, and just…rank of evil._

_Yet she was her father's daughter. She had a duty to her family to follow her parents' wishes. So she resigned herself into this ritual, thinking that if her parents were willing to proceed with whatever was demanded of them, she should show no less dedication than them._

_Lady Valerica's agonized cries yanked Serana's attention free from her thoughts, and she looked up at the summoning pit etched with arcane runes on the floor in the middle of the throneroom. They were in Molag Bal's presence now, within his chambers in the realm of Coldharbour. For as soon as the followers of the daedric prince conjured the gate of Oblivion to open, reality had shifted and given way to the warping energies of the immaterial realm._

_The walls of the dark god's palace writhed and moved with living statuettes and livery from claimed souls. All of them, naked and tormented with the spiked shackles that hung and wrapped like snakes around their necks and torn bodies, shackles that they themselves have forged to earn the attentions of their patrons. Dremora guards and towering stone guardians stood watch on the wings of the chamber, keeping all who entered within until the ritual was complete._

_Molag Bal himself precided over each of these rituals he approved of, never once denying mortal eyes of his domineering presence and dwarfing divinity. A towering monstrosity encased within a suit of armor that gave him an appearance of a half-bull and crocodile with a matching tail that swept behind his legs._

_Serana was terrified, not only for herself but for her beloved mother, who now lay spread out like a hunted gazelle, about to be gutted by the hunter's practiced hands. What suffering was to come would be beyond anything words could describe, and like lambs to the slaughter, they went in willingly._

_And for what? The hope for a reward of limitless power._

_Valerica groaned as the massive dremora titans, three of them, held her down and tore the thin offering gown she was dressed in to expose her nakedness for all to see. The titans, the Chosen of Molag Bal, looked up to their master who sat upon the iron throne above and waited for his command to proceed._

_He nodded once and leaned back to watch the scene unfold._

_Valerica turned her head away, eyes locking onto her daughter's own, and tightened her lips so that she would not scream. Human instinct to violation, to never give her tormentor the satisfaction, it was instincts like these that Molag Bal wished to destroy. For only through submission would he gain what he most desired from his mortal servants._

_The total ruination of what they held most dear._

_The massive appendage tore through her healthy pink folds, scraping furiously against her dry and unwilling walls of flesh, which sent waves of excruciating pain up and down her loins. Valerica bit down on her tongue to keep herself from crying out, and her eyes clenched as hard as her cunt, drawing tears as the monster sheathed himself deep within her._

"_Insolent woman." Molag Bal scoffed, "You will learn to submit, or be destroyed."_

_One cock was not enough. The dremora lifted Valerica up for the second Chosen to slip beneath the trembling woman. Once he positioned himself directly under her, his throbbing member jammed up into her tight little asshole. From there, Valerica could no longer hold back her anguished screams, and she cried out from the forced entry of the unwelcome cock._

_Sandwiched between two pistoning rods of iron, devoid of any form of pleasure and filled with agonizing pain, Lady Valerica's will, coupled with the thought that should she fail in pleasing her god her suffering would be for nothing and she would never gain the power she desired, shattered completely. She was reduced from a proud woman of a noble house to a whimpering, soiled and desolate ruin within minutes._

_Molag Bal stared, and even through the slits of his helm Serana could see the glint of his teeth bared as he smiled. "Yesss…submit to me."_

"_I…" Valerica sobbed, feeling her equally violated holes desperately welling up with body fluids to lessen the excruciating friction caused by her rapists' punishing fucking. "I submit…my lord."_

* * *

The flickering flame dancing atop the wick of the burning candle stilled itself as Serana's thoughts turned to the present. The woman's face twisted into a disgusted grimace as she realized she allowed herself to sink back into that horrid memory.

Immortal though she may be, the years could never fully wash away the stench the Prince of Domination placed on her. And yet it was never the ordeal that hurt her the most. Rather, the betrayal wrought by her own family, that stung harder than the sharpest blade on Tamriel.

She wished it would stay buried, down in the depths of her mind. It was all for nothing, in the end anyway. A few hundred years maybe. Her father enjoyed his reign of terror, lost his wife to his ambition and later his daughter. Her family, torn apart by the lust for power. None of it was worth what she had to endure.

Alas, one could only run from one's own mind for too long.

The vampire stared at the crackling flames of the hearth sitting three feet from where she sat, once again deep in thought as she considered what her friend said to her earlier that day.

"_Have you ever thought about what if would be like…you know, not being a vampire? You could be your own person…free from the thirst of blood…never having to fear the scorching gaze of the sun."_

She dismissed the idea at first, then reconsidered. Then put it off, then reconsidered once more.

It was never her choice to become a Daughter of Coldharbour. But this, this chance to reclaim her humanity- this was hers.

Absentmindedly, Serana's finger toyed with her lower lip as she turned her gaze to the open books piled on top of one another on her desk. There were tomes, new and ancient alike, that promised freedom from the Volkihar curse. She'd gone through them all, but in the end concluded that they were useless. The hours ticked on, and soon the night gave way to dawn. Serana sighed wearily.

Perhaps it was justly so, for what Daughter of Coldharbour would ever reject Molag Bal's 'gift'?

Her eyes fell upon a stray page, one that showed an account of the first vampire hunters' hunt for Lamae Bal. Serana frowned and spoke softly, "What Daughter of Coldharbour would loathe her own existence…unless she was as unwilling a subject as I?"

The cock crowed once. Serana had a semblance of an idea.

Gathering her things in a small bag; a book of spells, her journal and her dagger; Serana blew out the candles in her room and began writing a farewell note for her friend. The woman considered bringing the Dragonborn along for the ride, but thought better of it. She left the letter on top of his nightstand in the room across the hall, and soon after left the house to begin her journey south.

To the capital province of Cyrodiil. She had to follow the trail set by the hunters, even though it had been centuries since they've given chase. Lamae Bal was the key, the first vampire and unwilling bride of Molag Bal.

_You've convinced me._

_I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this in person. Knowing you, you'd definitely insist on coming with. I didn't want to waste time arguing over it. This is just something I have to do alone._

_I'm going to be gone for a long while. Please, don't follow me. I'll return in time when I've found a cure for my affliction. Until then, know that I'll be fine on my own. Trust me, you'll have your hands full slaying Worldeaters and settling civil wars, enough to keep you busy while I'm gone._

_,Serana_

* * *

Her blood boiled beneath the sweltering heat of the morning sun. Though covered beneath her thick cloak and royal robes, Serana chafed at the punishing glare of the Eye of the Dragon. Her horse sensed her displeasure and broke into a slow trot. The vampire breathed heavily as she felt herself grow weaker as the hours stretched on.

Weaker, and hungrier.

The woman had not fed since the day she left for Cyrodiil. In fact, she had not fed at all since she met the Dragonborn when he rescued her from that stone sarcophagus in Dimhollow. Five days into her journey, she was struggling hard not to prey upon the peasants on the road. She licked her lips as the thirst for blood warred against her thoughts, demanding to be sated. Serana stifled the urge as she had done so many times before. She would not allow herself to sink down to the level of a beast, not while she was working with all she had to find a cure. Breaking the curse of vampirism was much easier, she knew a priest somewhere in Skyrim that could help her if that was the case. Alas, hers was much more complicated. As she wrestled for control of herself, Serana cursed her father for damning them all into this harrowing existence.

"A mouthful of blood..." She found herself whisper out loud, "...that is all I need. Just a little to keep me going..."

Presently, the road led to a small village called Syph, just a few hundred miles from the famed city of Bruma. Serana felt the need to feed burn ever stronger as her eyes took in the villagers walking to and fro, reduced to mere sources of warmth and sweet sweet lifeblood in the vampire's eyes. Her fangs pushed against her lips, eager to sink into living flesh. She gave her instincts a rough shove and spurred her horse onwards. Serana remained strong and braved the consequences of her deliberate starvation.

Moving further and further away from the common roads, Serana followed the mist-laiden and barely trodden path towards the woods. Twigs snapped, and leaves rustled. The vampire heard a low chuckle as a band of maraudering bandits emerged from the treeline with weapons drawn. With a short tug of the reins, Serana ground her mount to a halt. Bandits, they were everywhere. No amount of vigilance from the local constabulary would deter them from plying their trade along the road. There were ten of them, five on each side to keep her from running.

"Well well, lookee here boys." The leader began, "Get her quick, but try not to damage her too much. Might wanna have some fun with her pretty face later."

Scum of the earth, no one will miss them. Serana exploded into a black mist and transformed into a cloud of tittering bats, frightening her horse and sending it off running into the woods to escape the battle.

Caught off-guard, the bandits tumbled in on one another as the bats swirled about them. The vampire took advantage of the ensuing chaos and reformed in the middle of the formation. Hissing and snarling, Serana summoned her unearthly powers and drained the poor sods of their strength. Moving with limbs as heavy as iron, the bandits collapsed all around their assailant and dropped their weapons. Wasting little time getting to work, and desiring a quick end to the ordeal, Serana drew her dagger and slit her prey by their throats one by one. All but two of the bandits fell to her blade.

Then, the calling drew her attention. As their lifeblood pooled into the ground, Serana trembled with the ache of her needs. Her inner struggles divided her focus, enough to distract her from the remaining bandits as they foolishly continued the battle and raised their arms to strike at the preoccupied vampire.

Serana winced as a sharp whistle broke the stillness of the air, followed by a loud snap from a steel-tipped bolt striking flesh. With an agonized cry, one bandit fell, and the other whirled about just as the second bolt finished him off.

Relieved at the save, Serana turned around with a sassy remark ready at the tip of her tongue, expecting to see the stubborn Dragonborn standing behind her. She stopped before she spoke the first word as her assumptions were soon after proven false, for a stranger stood in place of her friend.

He was a dark elf, it wasn't hard to mistake the grayish hue of his skin and the distinctive flare of his forehead that stretched into a V. Though his face was bared, Serana didn't recognize him, and she was usually good with faces. They've never met before, otherwise she'd immediately change her tune. She noted his attire and judged him at first as Dawnguard, but soon after retracted her conclusion. Dawnguard hunters had a thing for uniforms. Even with his tight studded leather armor that looked like it had been worn down by the elements, he definitely did not wear anything of theirs, not even the telltale gilded sun that so decorated every inch of their headquarters.

"Who...who sent you?" Serana asked, feeling faint and struggling to stand upright.

"Our mutual friend." His voice, as bitter and unwelcoming as the scowl on his face, growled out a response. He folded his crossbow and put it inside the holster on his back. "You had him worried. When he called in a favor from me, he was quite excited to send me on my way. Fortunately, you weren't that hard to find."

"Oh, really?" Serana said as she rolled her eyes, "Figures. I told him I wanted to do this on my own."

"And that's a sure thing, is it?" He replied, pausing to study the starving vampire closely. "You plan on marching through Cyrodiil in that state? That'll be a short-lived undertaking."

Unsure whether the man knew about her...condition, or not, Serana danced around the issue. "I can take care of myself!"

The man was unfazed, like he heard this whole thing before and knew just what to say. "Girl. You can stop debating the morality of your needs. There was none to begin with when you surrendered your humanity for it. Drink up."

His words stung, and Serana was sorely tempted to throw back an envenomed retort of her own. Alas, she had more pressing concerns. With a scoop of her hand to the dead bandits' throat, she drank deeply of their blood and stood still while she waited for her feeding to take effect. As she closed her eyes to revel in the surge of strength that gripped her bones, Serana spoke to the stranger her friend sent to aid her. "So...you know what I am."

He gave her a nod, "One can always find a vampire when he knows what to look for. You, my dear, are not very subtle."

"Look, I can appreciate what you did back there, but I'm afraid I will have to play the stubborn role and refuse to take you any further." Serana said, "Go back."

"No."

"Please?"

A heavy sigh, "No."

"Why ever not?" Serana growled, exasperated beyond words.

"I have my reasons, and they involve with me staying." The man answered nonchalantly. "You're not getting rid of me that easy."

With an annoyed huff, Serana threw up her hands. "But of course, he sends me the most obstinate one! Fine! But you are not to slow me down, understand?"

A small, condescending smirk replaced the scowl as the dark elf whistled for his horse. The stallion, donning a chainmail around his shoulders and body, was hitched with a number of tools and small weapons. A sleeping roll fit for one was rolled up next to the saddle, inside was a sword with a peculiar energy emanating from it. The man hoisted himself up with one smooth motion and eyed Serana curiously. "Where's your horse?"

Serana looked around for her mount, opened her mouth and closed it, and turned back to him upon seeing that the poor horse had run away. "I...I lost it."

"Can you whistle for it to come back to you?"

"Um...no?"

"Merciful gods." Serana heard him breathe an oath as he turned his gaze to the sky, "Damned fool set me up with a fucking amateur." He looked back down at her and growled. "Come on then. Get up here."

Serana reluctantly mounted the saddle behind the stranger and sat as far as the seat would allow. She didn't want to get close to the man, not after such a distasteful first impression. For courtesy's sake, she introduced herself as the dark elf nudged the horse forward. "By the way...I'm Serana."

"I am Mordred. It has not been a pleasure."

**}!{**

**I plan on making this story as short as five to six chapters only, seeing as how my pre-planned plot is quite short. I'd love to hear your thoughts, please do share them so I can make it as close to perfection as possible.**


	2. Cyrodiil

**}!{**

The pair stopped at the gates of Bruma and paid their toll fees for the city guard to let them pass. Mordred was forced to pay on Serana's behalf, for the vampire had little money on her person, much to the vanquisher's chagrin. Once given passage, the two travelers weaved through the sea of bodies that flooded the market district that stretched across the main gate and into the city square. The famed city wherein the great heroes of old defeated Mehrunes Dagon and thwarted the Oblivion Crisis, it was almost like they had stepped into another world entirely.

Tall and majestic marble statues made to honor the gods of the pantheon lined the corners of every street. Heroes of legend and of long forgotten history also lined the narrow corridors, their hands raised towards the heavens to proclaim the supposed generosity of the divines. Serana noted the look of disdain her companion had for the statues.

He did not approve. That hate was not entirely new in the world.

"So what are we here for exactly?" Mordred asked as he led his horse through the cobblestone streets and into the stables of a nearby inn.

"Looking for clues." Serana replied. "I'm sure our friend told you all about what I'm doing here so far from home."

"He was sketchy about the details." The dunmer clarified, "Why don't you fill me in on what's missing?"

"Not out here." Serana said as she paused to look at the crowd around them. "Too many prying eyes, too many ears."

"Then let's get a room in there." Mordred pointed to the inn, the _Crone's Respite_, an establishment that had shifted names as often as the seasons. "Perfect place to pick up news without drawing too much attention."

"Oh, and you know this how?" The woman haughtily said.

"You haven't been around much, have you?" Mordred replied in turn. Serana pouted, yet followed him inside anyway.

The _Crone's Respite_ was like anyone would've expected. The bar was obviously crowded with drunken patrons, the tables full of rowdy and mirthful revelers, with a handful on the receiving end of a painful slap from the server when they got a little too touchy. Mordred exchanged a few words and a gold coin to get them set up, then proceeded to make his way through the room towards a lonely little round table fit for two.

The dark elf pulled down the hood that covered his head and Serana got her first good look of the man.

His hair was black as night, but the beard that covered his lips had a few graying strands in them. Her best guess was that he was already middle-aged. His cheeks were slightly wrinkled from the weathering of the elements, clear evidence that he spent much of his time outdoors, and had one big scar that stretched from the bottom of his right cheek to the bridge of his nose. Somebody dragged a blade across his face. Dragged, not slashed. Up close and personal, like they wanted to carve up his face for some grisly trophy. Whoever it was, they probably never lived long enough to tell anyone about it.

His eyes, though. They weren't the usual bloodshot red or cosmic sapphire that most dunmer were graced with, but of warm moss green. If he wasn't using them to give someone a death-stare, or if she never Serana found herself mesmerized by them. In that rare moment, with the lights of the hearth-fire dancing in the background, she noticed something in those eyes.

Sadness. "What?"

Serana flinched, realizing those same eyes were now looking her way. "Sorry, I kind of got distracted."

"Keep a good grip on your thoughts." Mordred said in disapproval, "We're not here on vacation."

"Hey there, handsome!" The server greeted, bending down deliberately to offer the dark elf an ample view of her cleavage as she prepared to take his order. "What'll it be this fine day?"

It was as if Mordred had a mask slip across his face, and even though Serana had met him only hours before, she could already tell that this was definitely a facade. An effective one too. Apparently, Mordred could be charming if he wished it so. "Hey yourself." His voice, quick to snarl at every word, became as sweet as velvety honey. "I'll have a modest serving of ale, and your recommendation for lunch."

The stylus scribbled audibly on the piece of parchment, then the server turned to the vampire. "And what will you be having, miss?"

Serana opened her mouth to speak, but Mordred was quicker. "She's not hungry. She ate on the way here." The dark elf needn't turn to look at the daggers the vampire was throwing his way with her eyes.

"Alright then, anything for dessert?" The server asked.

"A few moments of your time would be nice." Mordred offered a tender and disarming smile.

"For you, love, I've got a whole hour." The server said, flipping her red braids over her shoulder innocently as soon as she sensed her boss watching her. "I'll hold you to that. Catch you later." She gave the dark elf a wink and sauntered off to get his food ready.

"What the hell was that?" Serana asked.

"That, my dear, is called building bridges." Mordred replied, "And your performance, I should say, was grand."

"Performance?" Serana chuckled humorlessly. "Oh no, _that_ was real."

"Vampires have no need for food nor drink." Mordred's smile disappeared, and the facade bared his unwelcoming nature. "Your only sustenance is blood, and you've had your fill today. I will not waste any more coin on you than necessary."

Serana took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew she didn't need to take any of that, but she also knew that while his words stung, he was still speaking the truth. What perplexed her was that he knew a whole lot of truths, too much for the average adventurer. "Would you please stop? I'm not the enemy here."

"Maybe."

"Play nice, Mordred." Serana frowned, "You're making it very difficult for me to work with you."

"I don't 'play nice'. You want companions who coddle you, sugar-coat things to soften them all up for when they finally hit you?" Mordred replied, "Tough luck. That's not how I do things. Our mutual friend's good at that. You should've let him come along in the first place. And since we've established that I'm not going anywhere, you'd best get used to having me around."

"Fuck. You."

"Mmm...yes, I think we'll get along quite nicely."

Serana looked away and fell silent, refusing to talk to the man after having enough of his callous words.

"Well?" Mordred continued nonchalantly, "Are you going to tell me what we're here for, or what?"

The vampire glared back and stifled the urge to lunge forward and gouge out the insolent man's eyes out. Keeping a level head, Serana realized that Mordred's unorthodox methods of gathering information was a sure shot at figuring out her next step. He wasn't just charming the server for the sake of it, rather, he was setting her up so he could get what they needed. Even if his prickly attitude towards her would never change, and would undoubtedly drive her crazy, he was useful. So, swallowing her pride and then some, Serana coolly replied. "Depends, how much did he tell you about me?"

Mordred leaned back and intertwined his fingers together on the table, "You're Serana, the sole offspring of a Master Vampire known as Lord Harkon of House Volkihar. As far as vampires go, you stand among the few that tower above the rabble. He spoke highly of you too, took a while to convince me on going in his stead, I suppose it was enough to do so or I wouldn't be here."

"Then you should be well aware that I am not just any vampire, but a Daughter of Coldharbour. Believe me when I say this, if my case were simpler I would've had myself cured back in Skyrim a long time ago instead of coming all the way here for a release from my affliction."

"I see."

"I need to know, and if possible, to speak with the vampire hunters who hunted down Lamae Bal."

"Lamae Bal? The first vampire?" Mordred said. "I know of that hunt. They supposedly killed her, brought back an urn full of her ashes as proof. I stress the word 'supposedly'."

"And how do you know of this hunt?" Serana asked, genuinely curious about her companion's profession.

"All true vampire hunters know of the source of that manifestation of darkness." Mordred's eyes gleamed murderously in the glow of the inn. "Molag Bal may be forever out of our reach, but his the actions of his followers as they prey on the innocent will never go unanswered."

"Will we have a problem then?" Serana inquired warily, realizing he may be more dangerous than the Dawnguard were when she came knocking at their door all those years ago. "You working together with me, knowing that I am a child of that darkness?"

Mordred's eyes narrowed, "You're still alive, aren't you? Well, more or less..."

"Wow, now I'm curious as to what twist of fate made you and the Dragonborn friends. Do you always talk to him like this?"

"I don't know, if I did, he never complained about it as much as you do." Mordred said with a shrug, "Now, on to the matter at hand. We won't have to sit here and wait for information to come to us, I know where we need to go." Without even waiting for the server to come back with their meal in hand, Mordred flipped a coin in the tender's direction and slipped out with his companion in tow towards the door.

"Poor girl." Serana muttered, "Might've been the most interesting thing that's happened in her boring life for once."

Mordred grunted in reply and fetched his horse.

* * *

The pair headed further south from the borders of Bruma, guided only by Mordred's memory of an ancient ruin that hundreds of monster-hunters once called home. The climate of the area turned cold as the two crossed the border into the unknown, and even Serana shivered at the sudden shift in temperature. Seeking ways to distract herself from her discomfort, the woman often pried for more details about what her companion knew. Also, so she could sate her growing curiosity of the mysterious, aggravating dark elf that the Dragonborn sent her way.

"What is this place you're taking us to?" Serana asked.

"It used to be a guild headquarters." Mordred replied, "Long ago, in a forgotten age before the Tamriel's Guild of Fighters assumed the mantle of slaying monsters, a nameless band of adventurers met regularly in the remains of an abandoned fort south of Bruma. The city was just a tiny village back then, and the people were easy prey. You can imagine the demand for quick solutions to their monster problems."

"Nameless, why?"

"When the guild grew too powerful and too proud, they made a lot of enemies over time- the kind of enemies that held sway over kingdoms. All records of them were destroyed when six armies assaulted their fortress and massacred the denizens within." Mordred explained.

"All records? Sounds like they missed a few." Serana pointed out Mordred's exclusive knowledge about the forgotten guild. The dark elf did not reply, and spurred his horse onwards into a trot. "How old are you exactly, Mordred?"

"Old enough to know better."

Serana rolled her eyes, annoyed at his apparent dodging of the question. She changed the subject, "How powerful would the guild be if it needed six armies to defeat them?"

"You'll see."

Mordred guided the horse through the narrow passes of the mountain trail, avoiding the places where the sharp and jagged rocks started to form or the slippery slopes laid in thick with ice from winter's chilling breath. Since the province they were in was very close to Skyrim, it was the land of always-winter. Soon, the pair gained the peak of the cliffs overlooking a small valley. In the middle stood the ruins of the sundered fort.

Acutely sensitive to magic, Serana could feel the pull of powerful magicks in the area. Even though centuries had passed, and its walls toppled to rubble, the ruins still held a strength unseen by mortal eyes. "I can feel it...like the air's getting heavy around me."

"This was the guild who hunted down Lamae Bal. Others may have claimed to succeed, but only one did the deed." Mordred said, dismounting to lead the horse on foot. Serana remained on her seat, distracted once more by the faint whispers in the wind. Her eyes were given a brief glimpse of what lay beneath the earth, and the vampire recoiled in surprise as she saw thousands upon thousands of bones scattered all across the valley around the ruins!

"Blood of my ancestors!"

"Get down, my horse is tired." Mordred said, mildly annoyed at the woman. He noted her expression and reassured her. "Shake it off, girl. Everyone who crosses into this land gets the same vision, harmless, nothing to concern yourself with."

Serana obediently got down and pulled her cloak even tighter around herself. Arming themselves accordingly, the pair crossed the valley until they reached the broken down gates of the fort, where the snarling visage of a dragon made out of pure solid steel glared at them from where it lay, half-buried from the rubble that cascaded from the wall when a siege engine broke it down. From the way the beast lay with its massive wings bent and broke upon impact, and the nasty tear across its chest, Serana concluded that some form of magical attack tore it out of the sky and sent it down plummeting back to earth.

"What is that thing?" Serana asked, awed by the construct that was clearly man-made.

Mordred, again, didn't answer her directly. "A testament to the powers of the guild. Come on, we've got a lot of ground to cover."

Inside a narrow and long corridor that served as the main entrance into the fortress, the pair found even more bones belonging to the guild-members locked in combat with the soldiers that laid siege to their fortress. They lay where they died, still holding tight to their weapons as the massive doors they guarded were broken apart to allow the armies entry. Serana noted that there were only six guild-member bodies in the corridor, and hundreds of dead soldiers piled atop of one another, so much that Serana and Mordred couldn't step around without sinking ankle-deep into someone's ribcage.

"Six of them, against so many." The vampire mused, looking about to notice the heavy scorch-marks on the walls and ceiling. The foreign magicks, so heavy in their influence, prevented the moss or plants from spreading out across the fortress grounds, offering an ample view of the destruction wrought upon its soil.

Mordred stared silently at the six corpses, and Serana noticed that same sadness flare up again across his eyes, before being quickly snuffed out as the vanquisher entered the doors into the fort. She knew he recognized them.

"I have a growing feeling that you know a lot more than you let on, Mordred." Serana accused her companion when they reached another wide, spacious chamber that looked like it served as the feasting hall. Amidst the bones resting at their feet, the vanquisher bent down to inspect the remains of the guild while the vampire demanded an explanation. "What are you hiding from me?"

"Shut up." Mordred said in a hushed tone as he drew his sword. "We're not alone here."

Serana sniffed the air and caught a whiff of someone's blood. Quickly, she stuck to the shadows and allowed Mordred to lead her on. She would have to let her questions await their answers later. The pair listened closely as they snuck through the room to the next one, stopping short when they heard the faint murmur of voices one level below them.

"But there's nothing here!" They heard someone say, "Whatever they may have built, whatever they may have stored, the people who attacked them made sure nothing would be left of worth!"

"They'd love to make you think that, wouldn't they?" A woman's voice answered in turn, "If I were to build an empire that defies both gods and men by its existence alone, I would think of ways to preserve my most treasured artifacts. This guild...it was destroyed in the attack, but I'll bet what's left of my family fortune they'd hide it somewhere where no one would ever think to look."

"Adventurers?" Serana whispered.

"No. Worse." Mordred replied as he gained sight of the group plundering the depths of the ruins. "Devotees of Akatar."

"Never heard of them." The vampire whispered back.

"A cult obsessed with gaining immortality through any means they deem necessary." The dark elf reached into the small pack hanging at his belt and drew out a small philter that contained a clear liquid. With this, he wet his blade. "That includes, but does not limit to, turning themselves into vampires."

"Why would they be here?"

Mordred's lips grew taut, as if he was considering withholding the closely-guarded secrets he had on him. "There are...artifacts, here within the ruins...we must make sure they never leave here with them in hand."

Serana raised an eyebrow at this, but let issue set itself aside for the moment. Mordred indeed knew more than he let on, but she would have her answers one way or another. "Alright then, you go first."

"Don't mind if I do." Mordred replied, gathering three small glass grenades filled with a combustible fluid, and emerged into the open to draw attention to himself. The dark elf caught the cultists by surprise, for most of them were still bent over or preoccupied searching through the ruins for clues to the hidden vault of artifacts.

"Watch out!" The leader, the woman who spoke earlier, drew her staff and cast a spell to shield herself and her allies the moment Mordred lobbed his grenades in their direction.

The resulting blasts sent the cultists scattering. Dust and smoke kicked up, obscuring the cultists' vision for the dunmer to take advantage of. His sword swung left and right, shattering the barriers the mage put up with ease and cutting through the thin cloth armor her subordinates were wearing. The vanquisher was quick to close the distance, sword ready to dispatch the sorceress just as she prepared to summon a fireball.

Mordred only had to walk up to the woman in three strides, flex his arms back with his sword poised to strike, and thrust.

There were no complex or elegant movements involved in Mordred's actions. He executed each swing and step with the minimal amount of effort required, like a master who had foreseen the outcome of each challenge and dealt his blows with brutal efficiency.

The sorceress' face grew pale as all the blood in her head gushed out of the wound in her throat. The blood flowed in rivers, and trickled down the shaft of the blade, growing into a fountain when the vanquisher pulled it free. The woman collapsed into the growing pool of red beneath her. With the hem of her robe, Mordred wiped the gore clean from his sword and placed it back in its sheath.

"Come, there may be others." Mordred called to Serana, who stared in disbelief at the swift conclusion of the scene.

"I don't think I even need to do anything." The vampire said.

"You'll be useful in many other ways." Mordred rumbled, "The sooner we finish off these cultists, the sooner we can begin our search." The pair spent half an hour going around the ruins before they found, to their relief, that the ones Mordred killed were the only ones there. And so, the dark elf led the vampire further down through the forgotten halls leading into the lower levels of the fortress.

There, Serana resumed her questionings.

"Mordred. I'm no simpleton..."

"You sure about that?" Mordred muttered.

Serana frowned, "And I'm not one to let things slide so easily. You've been to this place before, you may even have been here before the fortress was destroyed. That would make you pretty damn old in spite of how you look now, but it's not an impossible thing." The vampire stopped walking and crossed her arms, "Perhaps...you were even a member of that nameless guild."

Mordred stopped, not because of what his companion accused him of, but because he was busy fumbling in the dark to reach for a hidden lever among the torch sconches. He turned to look at Serana and allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his lip. "I take it back, then. You're smarter than you look, little girl." Finding the lever, the dark elf tugged at the piece and opened a secret door in the wall.

"So?" Serana tilted her head to the side, "Are you going to tell me, or what?"

Mordred pursed his lips and considered her proposition carefully, deciding finally on something that may benefit the both of them. "I'll tell you what. You tell me something about yourself that you'd loathe to tell anyone else, and I'll let you in on my secrets. Still interested?"

Serana thought about retracting her proposition, but remained adamant. "We'll see."

"Good." Mordred beckoned for her to step through the door. "After you."

**}!{**


	3. Crossroads

**}!{**

_Finally, it was Serana's turn._

_Valerica was returned to the mortal plane with her husband and all their attendants upon finishing their offerings to the Dark Prince. All that was left was their daughter, all alone and surrounded by leering demons and dremora warriors. The Chosen of Molag Bal, refreshed from the pain drawn from the violent rapes of their offerings, lumbered over towards the frightened princess and laid their hands upon her._

_Roughly dragged by the hair to the altar before the Dark Prince, who watched upon his spiked and burning throne on high, Serana was stripped of all her clothes and bent over the cold slab of solid marble._

_Knowing that there would be no warning, no preparation for what was to come, Serana swallowed whatever pride she had within her and willingly accepted her punishment. This, of course, did little to ease the excruciating pain that came with the forced entry of the massive appendage so brutally shoved into her unwilling cunt. Serana opened her mouth to scream, but choked as another cock was stuffed down her throat._

_She was violated from top to bottom, and every passing second of that harrowing experience served to chip away at whatever self-worth she had, even clawed at her sanity. All this pleased Molag Bal, and he smiled at her suffering. "Yesss...such sweet sweet misery..."_

_On the verge of passing out, Serana weakly pushed against the dremora warrior fucking her face and uttered a strangled gasp as she fought for air. The woman yelped in pain when the warrior slapped her across the face. With a fistful of her hair in hand, the dremora pulled her face in and shoved himself back inside her mouth. The one behind her was nearing his end, and since her last orifice demanded ruination, he paused to pull out of her inflamed cunt and began raping the woman's untouched asshole._

_Lacking the strength to even cry out, Serana bowed her head in defeat as another surge of agony burned through her thighs and backside._

_Molag Bal rose up from his throne and stood beside the one face-fucking Serana and waited until the dremora had his fill. With one rough, jerking motion, he seized her by the chin and forced her to look up at him. He reveled in the sight of her tear-stained face, where the remains of her thick eyeliners ran down in black rivers on her cheeks._

_"Do you submit to me?"_

_Serana croaked out a weak reply just as her rapist unloaded his warm seed up her ass. "I submit...my lord."_

_Satisfied with the final offerings of his Summoning Day, Molag Bal threw the woman out of his realm like a used rag and back into the mortal plane._

_Battered and broken, with her tender orifices still bruised and bleeding from that unholy sacrament, Serana curled up into a ball where she lay and cried._

* * *

"So..." Serana lifted her eyes to the brilliance of the newly lit torches in the hidden antechamber. At first, she withheld the tale she so loathed to tell anyone, for the memories still hurt. Mordred had maintained a respectful silence the whole time she told him her story, which both surprised Serana and earned the dark elf her own begrudging respect. At the very least he was not one to mock her pain, and so she acquiesced to his proposition, sharing the tragic tale that not even the Dragonborn heard from her. "Are you satisfied now?"

They sat together in the vault, amidst piles of scrolls and faded tomes that were gathering dust, shedding at last the barriers that kept them from working as a team and getting to know one another better. Mordred closed his eyes and set aside the disdain he initially held for the vampire, "I'm not above admitting that I have been wrong...You are not one of the monsters I so passionately hunt, but a victim of one's foolishness. I've misjudged you, Serana. Forgive me."

The woman sighed, "You're not the first. And yet, I can't blame you...I brought this on myself."

"If I may be so frank, from what you've told me, your parents aren't exactly guiltless either." Mordred said, showing a side to him that could only mean he knew what it felt like to have a family of his own. "I cannot imagine what would prompt someone to put their child- their own daughter- through that hell...all for the promise of power?"

Serana frowned. She didn't tell him her story so that he could criticize her further. She had her fill of that back home, "Remember the deal, Mordred."

"Alright then." Mordred relented. "What do you want to know?"

"Start with your name, and how you know this place like the back of your hand."

Mordred leaned back and stared at the ceiling which looked like it was close to caving in, "Well, the name's real enough. Not much for me to confess there. Now, as for the fortress and how I know it...I used to be a part of all this." The vanquisher turned his head to look at the faded banner that once displayed his guild so proudly to all who would gaze upon it. "It should be a little over a thousand years old...maybe less. That would make me roughly...I can't even remember exactly."

"You're digressing."

"Getting there." Mordred replied, "The Iron Halo, that's what we called ourselves. An ominous name, but respectable at the time. It started out as a bunch of monster hunters looking to save the locals from the wildlife plaguing the countryside, made a name for themselves after slaying a couple hundred of lesser vampire fledglings. Their careers soared when they killed the master vampires from which the curses stemmed from, and this fort we're standing in was where the last coven in Cyrodiil was cornered and destroyed."

Serana pursed her lips as she digested this revelation, "You said it became the guild headquarters. Why is that?"

"There's not a lot of good places to set up shop in those days. The history of the guild stated that the fortress held a lot of secrets before the coven took over, and later the guild." Mordred explained, "It's easy to understand why the guild wouldn't allow the corpses of the former denizens to deter them from capitalizing on the fortress' bounty. Seizing control of the leftover machinations of the coven gave the guild a significant edge that rivaled that even of the best armies in Tamriel."

"You're talking about that mechanical dragon sitting outside?"

"Among other things." Mordred said with a nod, "The Iron Halo established itself as a force to be reckoned with. Though they prioritized with handling monster threats that grew too large a problem for most enterprising mercenaries to deal with, they also explored advancements in the arcane and technological fields... sometimes bridging both, much like the Dwemer before they left this world."

"Were you part of this guild, Mordred?"

Mordred nodded again, but his expression turned grim. "I joined the Iron Halo because I wanted to hunt vampires."

"Why?"

The dark elf sighed and shook his head, refusing to go any further. "Come, we've spent too much time on this. Help me search through the archives for a ledger, or a book pertaining to anything of that hunt for Lamae Bal."

"Why won't you answer me?" Serana demanded.

Mordred went through the books, avoiding her question. "I did. Now, we focus on your quest, or have you forgotten why we're here?"

Serana withdrew at this, seeing that he was fair enough with her by giving her the equal measure of confidence she gave him. Also, he was right about her setting her priorities. Getting one step closer to her cure was more important than getting to know her abrasive companion. "Fine then."

"Good." The dark elf answered, "Off you go."

The next three hours was soon spent digging through the thousands of old scrolls, letters and pieces of fragmenting parchment that were practically falling out of rotting shelves. Clearly, no one had gone through these halls in a very long time. As Serana rummaged through the archives, she noticed Mordred planting little bombs in key points throughout the vault. This alarmed her, understandably, and she called him out. "Mordred, what are you doing?"

"What I should have done years ago. Making sure this vault, and all it holds, remains inaccessible." He replied, "Would you kindly hurry it up back there? I'm blowing this place up as soon as we get what we came for."

"Aren't you worried about burning up what you'll probably need in the future?"

"None that I would call as a necessity." Mordred said, setting up the last bomb. "The Devotees of Akatar know where this place is, and soon the whole world would come trying to dig up its secrets. It all burns, one way or another."

"Right then." Serana picked up the pace, and soon she found three books tied together that held the records of all the vampires the Iron Halo Guild had killed in its time. She held it out for Mordred to see, "Is this the one?"

Mordred came over and studied the books closely. After a minute of looking it over, he nodded in affirmation. "Yes. Bag it up and head out where we came. I'll catch up when I'm done."

"Done? Do you plan on keeping one last secret for yourself?" Serana asked, "Not judging, I would do the same considering the things I've seen here."

"Something like that." Mordred replied, "Wait outside, I won't be long."

Smoke drifted out of the tunnel and escaped through the cracks of the fortress into the outside. Serana did as she was told to and waited at the sundered gate while Mordred burned and buried the vault of secrets to keep them out of the wrong hands. He came to her, bearing a single sealed tome that bore the sigil of a serrated blade and the distinctive symbols of the realm of Oblivion etched in a circle around it.

"What's that?" The vampire inquired, her interest piqued at what import the old book might hold in their journey.

"A forgotten legend, one that I intend to pursue once we've completed your quest." Mordred replied, hastily wrapping the tome in a scarf and packing it into a bag that hung at his horse's saddle.

"You gonna tell me about it?"

"No."

"You still don't trust me." Serana accused as she mounted the horse behind Mordred.

"True." The dark elf replied as he spurred his horse forward to begin their journey to the next step. "I may respect you to some degree, but don't mistake that for trust. We still have a long way to go for that."

"Are you even sure you know the difference between the two?"

"Do you?" The dark elf replied nonchalantly.

Sighing wearily, Serana changed the subject to ease her mind off of the unsatisfied curiosity gnawing at the back of her skull. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe where we can study the books and plan our next move. I know a place where we can spend the night."

* * *

The pair set on the path and journeyed northwest of Bruma. Heading closer to the warmer climate that stretched across the western part of Cyrodiil and east of Hammerfell, Serana found the change in temperature more welcoming than the chilling bite of the northern wind. She rejoiced quietly when they arrived at the gates of a small town situated near the banks of a raging river.

An old wooden bridge that stretched across the river allowed travelers easy passage into the capital region when they returned from the west, and served as the primary route in which the merchants of the town would take when visiting nearby markets to ply their trade. With the ice melting from early spring, the waters of the river flowed with double the strength and tore the bridge in half, rendering it impassable. Business tanked as the townsfolk pursued alternative routes to deliver their products to neighboring cities. And being largely a fishing community meant that times would indeed get harder for them should the bridge remain unfixed.

These problems doubled when several bandit hordes set up camp in the hills around the town, prompting a small militia to form in response to their attacks. as a result, the town had grown paranoid and distrustful of strangers.

When the pair arrived, they were immediately surrounded by the townsfolk. Bearing crudely crafted spears and swords, with torches glaring hot in the night, the townsfolk made it clear that none were welcome. This did little to rattle the dunmer, and he called out the leader of the rabble to have them cease in the nonsensical greeting.

"You there!" Mordred said above the murmur of the crowd, calling out the tall, muscle-bound man in chainmail. "Are you the man in charge?"

"There is no 'man in charge'." The man replied, staring up through the chainmail hood draped across his brow. "Not since the bandits killed the mayor and hung his corpse on the town square."

"And yet these people look to you for leadership." Mordred observed, "I believe you do count as one."

The man grunted, "What are you doing here, dark elf?"

"Came to spend the night somewhere safe, and planned to head out first thing in the morning." Mordred answered, "From what I see here, apparently nowhere is safe."

The man turned to calm the townsfolk and have them part so he could approach the dunmer. With a steady and practiced hand, he took hold of the reins of Mordred's horse and eyed him with much scrutiny. "You two are too well dressed for bandits." His eyes fell on the crossbow Mordred was fidgeting with, "But still a potential threat."

"Not to you, but we could be if you force us." Serana replied.

"I don't plan on slaughtering townsfolk tonight, Serana." Mordred whispered, "Please shut up."

The vampire rolled her eyes and licked her lips.

"The bandits would come once more to take what's left." The man said, finally letting go of the horse's reins. "If you don't plan on sticking around to help, I'll have to suggest that you move on. There's nothing for you here."

"We'll take you up on your offer then." Serana said, goading Mordred to send them on their way. The dark elf, however, would not budge. "Mordred, what are you doing?"

The vanquisher turned his head back to glare at his companion, then looked at the man below. "What is your name?"

"Caelus." The muscle-bound warrior replied.

"Have you killed anyone before, Caelus?"

"I've had my share, why?"

Mordred dismounted, prompting Serana to throw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm going to solve your bandit problems. Is there anywhere I could have my horse and lovely companion spend the hours of the night while I bolster your defenses?"

"We have an inn, just the one room." Caelus offered, "The stable's out back, should be enough space for your fine steed."

"Thank you." Mordred accepted the offer gratefully and threw back his hood. He smirked at the vampire, noting her displeasure at his decision.

* * *

"Is this your definition of a practical joke, Mordred?" Serana growled, sitting cross-legged on the old bed while holding the stack of books they retrieved from the vault of the ruined fortress. "If it is, I'm hardly amused."

"What are you complaining about now?" The dark elf sighed, busying himself with fitting steel bolt-heads into yew-wood shafts. He worked quickly, piling up his ammunition onto the table in the corner of the small room they've been brought into. "You've got a roof over your head, a bed to relax in, and all the time you need to find out where we should head next."

"Yes, and we're situated in the middle of what will be a battlefield soon enough." Serana thrust the books aside with an irate huff.

"A battlefield where you won't actively participate." The dark elf replied, packing all the necessary tools of death at his disposal. "You need not concern yourself with this matter. Only focus on studying the books, that way we won't waste time and the sooner you figure out the next step the sooner we'll leave. How does that sound?"

"And where are you going?" Serana asked, reluctantly unbinding the tomes to begin her search.

"Hunting. Do enjoy the quiet, it will not last." Mordred said, closing the door behind him.

Left alone, Serana did enjoy the quiet while it lasted, and basked in the rare serenity offered in her seclusion. Opening the first book, Serana at first thought it would hold some boring accounts on past hunts. However, as she skipped through the first two pages, the vampire's interest gradually grew with each turn of the page. This was no mere compilation of hollow victories, but detailed accounts on how each challenging encounter was shrewdly studied and overcome. She read stories of vampiric forms, more twisted and evil than those she'd witnessed in her long lifetime. The Clan Volkihar was not the only family who struck a deal with Molag Bal, it would so seem.

And yet, the results had frightening similarities.

She turned to the next book, which held even more accounts on the vampires the Iron Halo fought through the years. That would've meant they were quite powerful as Mordred said, so it would've made sense they would be known the whole world over. Serana found herself wondering what drove the guild into obscurity so quickly after their defeat, and because of this she became even more determined to coax the answer out of a reluctant Mordred once he returned from his 'hunt'.

The third book held what she was looking for, and Serana paid close attention to every detail as she began turning each page of the ancient tome. The book's account on Lamae Bal was told through the perspective of a guildmember known only as Argaeus. It read;

_3E 420. _The date was 10 years prior to the Oblivion Crisis.

_I've received word from a reliable source in Rihaad, and after consulting with the Grandmasters I've confirmed its validity. It's happening now- we're actually hunting Lamae Bal, the first vampire. I've gathered my best bondbrothers and come the morn, we ride west for Hammerfell. The first place we'd have to stop by is the mountains of Ulthenwas. Shouldn't be hard to find, if we move quickly and follow the trail of corpses left in their wake..._

Serana's expression darkened when she saw that the next pages in the book appeared to be torn and the writing rendered illegible. She couldn't go any further. Someone made sure that no one would track down the place where the deed was done, or at the very least make it exceedingly difficult to follow. Frustrated at the lack of information, Serana set the books aside and stood up. Pacing the room and growing increasingly bored as the hour grew late, the vampire's eyes fell upon the bag containing Mordred's book.

The one he saved out of all the books in the guild's vault.

Serana pursed her lips and glanced at the door. Mordred wouldn't be back for a while. She considered sneaking a peek, but thought against it. She knew better than to pry, but felt a tad vindictive. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." She muttered as she pulled the tome out of its hiding place. "Now, what are you supposed to be?" The vampire eyed the intricate wooden braces along the book's borders, and the broken seal that stretched across its bindings.

There was a loud clap outside that signaled the arrival of a thunderstorm, frightening Serana so much that she dropped the tome. The seal broke off completely and rolled across the floor, almost dropping free into a hole in the planks before Serana quickly snatched it up.

"Alright then." Serana heaved a sigh of relief, "Let's see what you're all about."

_The Usurper. Dethroner of Gods and Kings. Bane of Princes and Deathbringer of Immortal Flesh._

Serana's brow arched. "Ooh. Charming title."

_All gods, great and small, favor a corporeal tool of destruction. Mehrunes Dagon had his razor, Sheogorath had his staff, and Molag Bal had his mace. All of these gifts were granted to mortal beings to enact their patron's will upon the plane of Mundus. But there is one such weapon created not to serve the gods, but to dethrone them. No mind could ever comprehend the hand that forged such a blade nor define the true purpose of its birth, for its very existence is blasphemy, and to wield it is to declare war upon creation itself._

_Its name is Usurper, and it holds the power to unseat any member of the divine pantheon._

Nothing more remained in the book's pages, nothing but incomprehensible markings and ancient writ. Serana understood enough to know why the book held Mordred's interest, and she did not dismiss it as fiction. She'd seen enough to know much was possible in the world. The only thing she wondered about now was what Mordred planned to do with that knowledge.

She kept thinking about one thing, though.

Was Mordred planning to kill Molag Bal?

**}!{**


	4. Hammerfell

**}!{**

As the hours ticked on and on, it seemed like the storm would never let up. The heavy downpour obscured the outside world, isolating the inn within a thin curtain of warm rain. Serana made herself comfortable on the old bed and lay down to sleep. A small pang of concern for her companion nagged at the corner of her mind, Mordred seemed to be taking too long with the little errand he had undertaken. She had no problem going her quest alone should the worst occur, having acquired her next clue that her search might resume its steady pace, but such thoughts made her feel a little guilty.

Mordred had proven himself reliable as of late, dismissing him as easily as she would a hired mercenary was not a trait she wished to add to her already long list of personal flaws. Besides, her friend trusted him enough to send him her way, to help her cure the incurable- if such a thing was even within reach.

Suddenly, the front door downstairs flew open with a loud bang. In came a bloodied, wet and obviously shaken Mordred. Serana smelled the scent of death on him and immediately rushed down to help him. He bled from a dozen wounds, Serana had to restrain herself upon approach when the wonderful smell of fresh blood reached her nostrils, the worst of his injuries seemed to have sustained from several magical attacks. There were heavy burn marks on the surface of his armor, owing their existence to the unexpected bandit mages employed by the marauder bands Mordred attacked. His crossbow was missing, as were the bolts he crafted hours prior to his adventure.

And yet, in spite of his injuries, Mordred's eyes gleamed with triumph, prompting the vampire to conclude that he was indeed successful in his little side quest. As Serana brought him to sit on a bench near the fireplace, the dark elf kept rambling about those close calls, stopping to groan in agony every now and then when his companion forced his armor and shirt off.

"Too tough a hunt for you?" Serana asked, going through her stuff to fetch something to stop the bleeding.

"Just enough to provide a healthy challenge..." The vanquisher rasped, wincing as the woman poured a healing concoction over his wounds. The magical properties of the potion halted the flow of blood and bound the tears in the dark elf's skin. Serana followed up with a basic spell of her own and restored the vitality of the ailing areas of Mordred's body.

"Healthy?" The woman scoffed as she fished for a needle and some thread. "From what I'm seeing here, it's anything but."

"Any requiring serious attention?" Mordred asked, heaving a sigh of relief as the pain faded into a dull throb. Serana cleaned the blood off of his skin with some rags and washed the wounds before sewing them up.

"Your disposition, for one, needs serious attention." The needle descended with a sharp jab.

"Ow." Mordred rumbled, "Alright, I suppose I had that one coming."

Serana merely smiled.

After several minutes spent stitching up the worst of his cuts, Mordred asked. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"I've done my fair share of sewing. Stitching flesh is not so different." Serana replied, casually snipping away the excess thread so that she could apply some salve over his burns and bandage them up.

"Thanks." Mordred grunted. The dark elf reached for his shirt, saw the blood that covered much of its fabric and decided to do without it for the moment. "How about you? Found anything useful in the books?"

"Our next destination is in Hammerfell, to a place called Ulthenwas." Serana sighed, "And just when I was about to get used to the cold."

"Ulthenwas is a mountain region, dominated by a largely cool atmosphere." Mordred assured the reluctant vampire, "That should be comforting if your concerns are for the weather and overall climate." When he entered the single room upstairs and spotted the bound tome sitting atop the nightstand, the dark elf threw his companion a disapproving glance and pursed his lips. "Hmm. Couldn't leave well enough alone, I see."

Serana avoided his gaze and crossed her arms defensively, "I...I wanted answers. Since you wouldn't give them to me, I decided to seek them out for myself."

"Right." Mordred rumbled, "Lucky for you, I'm made of tough skin, so I'll let this one slide." He took a seat near the window and searched his pack for a spare change of clothing. "Since you've started this whole ordeal, I might as well get it over with. Anything else you're curious about?"

"Now that you've mentioned it, will you tell me what started you down the path as a vampire hunter?"

"I wanted them dead, same as most people." Mordred replied, obviously dodging the question. "That's all you'll get out of me. Next topic."

Serana pursed her lips and nodded once, noting his reluctance to discuss the loathed inquiry. "Very well. What was it like, your time with the Guild?"

"Ah, the best years of my life." Mordred said, donning his shirt slowly over his aching wounds. "I joined the Guild to learn from the best, and hone my skills. I planned that once I've learned all I could, I would leave to hunt alone. They changed my mind after a few hunts spent together with their finest hunters, they gave me purpose...a sense of brotherhood."

"But you did leave, right?"

The sadness flared once more across the dark elf's eyes, "Yes, I did."

"Will you tell me why?"

Mordred shrugged, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to share. You've been wondering about my unusually long life for a while now, such was only possible in my initiation to the Guild."

"They had you participate in a ritual?" Serana asked, recalling that it was a common practice in ancient days to perform a number of sacraments in order to join esteemed organizations such as the Iron Halo.

"In a manner." Mordred explained, "As part of the new batch of neophytes, I was tasked to assist in an experiment conducted by the Guild's alchemists. They wanted to create a longevity elixir that would ensure the long term service of our aging warriors who knew no other life than to serve the Guild. It became commonplace in the Iron Halo to pursue whatever would give us an edge against the monsters in Tamriel, so the project was never looked upon with incredulity."

"I take it the project was successful?"

Mordred nodded, "Of sorts. The elixir proved to be unstable in its early form, and many of the neophytes with me turned to ash upon ingesting the concoction. The project was put on hold soon after. Me, being the young and defiant dunmer in the Guild, decided to devote my skills in order to further spur the project onwards. My work, studying and extracting rare reagents from all over the world, was instrumental in creating the successful elixir of longevity. The one item that served to assemble the whole turned out to be a siphoned extract of a master vampire's blood..."

"Ah, the irony." Serana remarked.

"Yes, indeed." Mordred continued, "I drank the potion, and felt its effects instantaneously. Long life, but not eternal. I will walk this world for a few more years, perhaps a decade, perhaps more. But I will die, like any man or mer."

"What made you leave?"

Mordred's expression darkened at the memory, clearly wishing he could forget the experience yet never once succeeding in doing so. "A few years more, spent in service to the Guild, a guildmaster grew obsessed with my work on the elixir. By this time it had become increasingly difficult to root out vampire covens. Fledglings were easy prey, but the masters were damned hard to find. Each encounter showed them getting more intelligent, more cunning and elusive. In short, there were no elixirs left for the Guild. And so, driven half mad by some form of delusion, the fool began kidnapping peasants, bandits and beggars along the roads...and he turned them into vampires to provide an endless supply of blood for his research to recreate the elixir formula."

"But...how could he do that, without the aid of a master vampire?" Serana asked, "It takes the power of a master to create fledglings."

"The Guild's alchemists have long isolated the disease 'porphyric hemophilia' or 'sanguinare vampiris' as later generations came to call it. He didn't need a master vampire's help, he just infected his victims with the curse of vampirism. I was the one who uncovered the plot and killed the guildmaster and his accomplices." Mordred hesitated before adding, "And his victims too."

"This is what made you leave the Guild?"

"No, it was the Guild's reaction to the guildmaster's actions that made me leave." Mordred said, growing angrier as the conversation delved deeper into his past life, "They called his actions as 'overextensions' but necessary in the pursuit of 'beneficial projects to the Iron Halo'. They condoned that atrocity, only because his victims were the dregs and the lesser born- people whom no one will miss."

"I can see why you left, anyone with a conscience would do the same."

"I am glad you approve, then. These little things prove to me that there's still some humanity in you." Mordred complimented.

"Thank you." Serana smiled, saying in turn. "And I'm happy to see there's more to you than a remorseless killer."

The two shared a moment of silence, with Mordred staring into the flames of the fireplace and Serana gazing intently into his sad moss green eyes. She could tell from the way the light in them was reduced to a smoldering ember, that Mordred had grown weary of his life. He lost something to the vampires, probably lost everything. Serana understood why he would not share any of that particular part of his past with her, or anyone, so she decided not to pry about it ever again.

"Mordred, when the Guild was attacked, did you have anything to do with it?"

"No." Mordred replied with a shake of the head, "The Guild brought it upon itself. I was fortunate to have left when I did, otherwise that fortress would've been my tomb."

"What happened?"

"They made a mistake of meddling in politics. At the time, a civil war was brewing between two houses vying for control of the region. The Guild pledged their allegiance to the wrong side. When their enemies won, six armies marched upon the fortress and killed everyone. Even with the strength of advanced technology and knowledge of the arcane, the Iron Halo succumbed. In a few short decades, all that remained of the Guild was a lonely ruin, lost to the ravages of time."

"But you're still alive, I'm betting there's some of you still out there." Serana said.

"That's a bet easily lost." Mordred chuckled mirthlessly, "They're all dead now. Even if they survived the assault on the fort, the ruling house of the time would've stomped them out over the years. And until now, I haven't heard of anyone trying to resurrect the Guild as Isran did for the Dawnguard."

"Hmm, sounds lonely."

"I don't see it that way." Mordred replied, "I'm blessed with close friends, few in number but I have them at the very least."

"Like our mutual friend?"

"Yes, quite so."

"How did you two meet, if you don't mind me asking?"

Mordred took a second to recall his first encounter with the Dragonborn, "I don't mind at all. You may have come to know him by now as both wanderer and explorer. His journey took him close to Morrowind once, in the closing days of the Accession Wars of the An-Xileel Invasion. I returned to my home country to help my fellow mer against the rebellions of the argonians, and if possible, to put an end to the war. He wasn't known as the Dragonborn at the time, and he was just a little known mercenary looking to make some coin."

"You met in battle?"

"Yes." Mordred nodded, "And he saved my life. I was bleeding badly from a barbed arrow lodged between my ribs, and I was surrounded by ten An-Xileel elite warriors. They had ambushed the small contingent I was riding with and slaughtered everyone present, I was left alone to fend off against the assault. All the experience of those centuries as a vampire hunter mattered little against superior numbers, and I guess I can say now that I was fighting halfheartedly."

"You...wanted to die?"

Mordred nodded again, "You live long enough watching all you've come to know and love fade away, you would also wish for death. I was ready for it, the circumstances were perfect for my end. I would die there in the mud and rain, with my kinsmen. And along came this band of mercenaries, with that little known warrior leading the charge, out of the blue. I knew I owed him my life. Such a debt could never be easily repaid, and I resented him for it."

"You came around, I'm certain."

"I did. I followed him around, assisting him in his endeavors. Eventually he grew on me, and we became inseparable for a very long time. Then, we parted ways after the war reached a stalemate. I journeyed south towards the Black Marsh, he went westward to Skyrim. When we met again a year later, he was a changed man. Heavy with the burden of responsibility, and more powerful than ever before."

"What do you think of him now?"

"He's a brave man and a cunning warrior." Mordred reflected proudly, "No matter how hard the fight, he always seemed to find our enemy's weakness and exploit it. You've seen if firsthand, I think you know what I'm talking about."

Serana nodded with an acknowledging smile, "I do. I never thought dragons could die, he proved me wrong with each of those beasts he brought down. He even made me some dragonscale shoes, though I never found them to my liking."

"Why? Too rough for your feet?"

"I have very sensitive toes." Serana defended, "Simple leather boots will do the job."

"Uh-huh." Mordred chuckled, "What about you, how did you two meet?"

"I thought he told you everything."

The dark elf shook his head, "He tried, I didn't care to know about it the first time. I'm interested now."

Serana retold the story of her adventures with the Dragonborn, from the moment they first met in Dimhollow Cavern, to the long journey across Skyrim hunting down the two elder scrolls, to the final confrontation against Lord Harkon in Castle Volkihar. All the while, Mordred listened in silence. Serana, having arrived at the long awaited question, decided to ask Mordred about his plans concerning the mythical Usurper. "Mordred, I read your book about the Usurper. I've never heard of such a weapon before, but I'm not keen on dismissing it as fiction just yet. What are planning to do with this knowledge?"

Mordred's expression turned serious, he hesitated a bit before sharing his thoughts with the vampire. " Once we've concluded our business together, I plan on devoting my remaining time on finding the sword, wherever it may be."

"And when you do, what then?"

The dark elf sighed, "That, I will leave to your imagination. Daylight is almost approaching, I shall rest with the few hours of night left to me."

"Very well." Serana said, grateful that her companion indulged her curiosity so generously. "Good night, Mordred."

* * *

Having gained the little hamlet's trust by defeating the bandit hordes in a single night, the pair were left alone by the townsfolk as they busied themselves with restoring order. Mordred never discussed how he accomplished the deed, though his injuries sustained were evidence enough that the ordeal had extracted a heavy but survivable toll. Grateful for his aid, the townsfolk gifted the traveling pair with another horse, a boon that the dark elf came to appreciate greatly as it would allow his companion to mount up without taking up his saddle's space.

Eager to see the quest done as soon as possible, Mordred and Serana left in the early hours of the morning and embarked on their journey towards Hammerfell. They spent weeks trying to reach Ulthenwas, wasting days when they got lost from going off-road. In Hammerfell, the common roads weren't set up as neatly ordered as the Imperial provinces, and it was easy to lose oneself in the sandy dunes of the desert country.

"Are we there yet?" Serana moaned in discomfort, pouring some warm water out of her waterskin and rubbing some on her neck and face. The sun had reached its peak in the sky, and cast its baleful glare upon the two lost souls stranded in the white, sandy wilderness. Having abstained from further feedings, Serana had grown increasingly thirsty for blood. Though she kept a tight leash on her impulses, Serana couldn't help but gaze longingly at Mordred's neck when the vanquisher was not looking.

The heat of the desert did not help in any way, and served to increase her hunger tenfold.

"Hold on." Mordred sighed, checking the map for reference. "It shouldn't be any further."

"I hope so for our sakes." Serana rasped.

The two kept on going, stopping only to let their horses drink from a small pond forming from the crack of a dying spring. The pair arrived at the foot of the Ulthenwas mount, where the clue said the Iron Halo's hunt for Lamae Bal reached. Mordred dismounted and tied his sword to his belt. Serana followed him on foot as he ascended the rock-flecked path leading up into the dust-cloud filled pass. As the cool winds blew down across the face of the mountain, the sand cleared enough to reveal bleached and cracked skulls lining up the stones and crags- evidence of activity long ceased, yet existed nonetheless.

"Do you smell anything?" Mordred asked, drawing his sword from its sheath.

"You mean aside from your apparent lack of hygiene?" Serana replied, "No, nothing."

The dark elf rolled his eyes and kept his guard up. Slowly, the pair ascended until they at last arrived at the ruins of what appeared to be a small hidden city. Marble, stone and brick, cracked from the ravages of time, lined pillars and crumbling walls. There existed a similarity between the ancient city of Markarth and the Ulthenwas ruin, although the only thing that the place lacked was the distinctive features of dwemer craftsmanship. Not a soul could be seen, save for the jackals roaming the corners, scattering upon seeing the approaching pair that walked on two legs.

"Interesting, I wasn't expecting to find this." Serana remarked.

"Neither did I." Mordred agreed, pointing towards three skeletons pinned to the walls by brass javelins. He noted the faded cuirass they bore, and recognized an old variant of the Iron Halo Guild's uniforms. "I think we found the remains of that hunting party."

"I thought they succeeded. Didn't you say so yourself that someone brought back Lamae Bal's ashes?"

"I did, though I never mentioned what everyone else thought about the hunt's conclusion." Mordred confessed, "Only one man returned from the hunt, with the aforementioned ashes stored in a vase. Ashes tell a story, not the truth."

"So, do you think she's still alive?" Serana asked.

Mordred paused to extract one of the javelins from the skeletons. The corpse dropped down in a heap of dust and bones, Mordred examined the weapon and sighed. "Someone here didn't want to be found. I'm betting there's enough here to lead us to Lamae Bal. If she lives, we might just find the answers you seek."

"And if not?"

"It's one less vampire to worry about."

The pair trekked onwards, and came upon a temple carved into the mountain face. There stood twin crude statues of women holding a curled blade in one hand and the other raised towards the heavens as if to challenge the gods for some unknown slight. Like the city around them, the elements had weathered down the statues to the point that a single gust of wind would topple them over. The entrance, however, seemed to be blocked from within.

"The doors seem to be made of brass and wood." Mordred observed, turning to his companion for solutions. "Think you've got any spells that could remedy this obstacle?"

"I might." Serana replied, raising her hands to begin casting. "Give me a moment."

Red glyphs and runic symbols appeared around the vampire's hands. With a twist and flex of her fingers, Serana reduced both wood and brass into ash, forming a circular entrance wide enough for two people to fit through.

"Nice work." Mordred said in approval as he set pitch over a torch and set it ablaze. "Come, stay close to me and keep your eyes open for trouble."

Guided only by the dim light of the torch, and by Serana's keen sense of smell, the two headed deeper into the temple. As they passed the threshold and made their way into the annex chamber, neither Mordred nor Serana took note of eyes that gleamed in the dark, faintly reflecting the light of the dark elf's torch.

Beyond the small circle of illumination, the darkness gathered. Bared feet lightly fluttered above the floor, unseen and unheard. Bared fangs poked free from open lips.

Mordred, however, would not remain ignorant of the pressing danger. Having spent most of his long life fighting the evils wrought by the darkness, the vanquisher halted in his tracks and fished out a flask filled with pitch. With this he ignited the small fuse and thrust the grenade onto the ground, exposing the lurkers hiding amidst the shadows.

Hissing and snarling in surprise, the vampires recoiled at the sudden luminescence of the annex chamber and crouched low as both Mordred and Serana prepared for battle. They were all women, deceptively beautiful but nonetheless as deadly as vampires could be.

"I'm sorry I couldn't sense them sooner." Serana apologized as her back pressed against Mordred's own.

"The apology is mine, that I trusted in your senses."

"Asshole."

Mordred merely chuckled.

**}!{**


	5. Ulthenwas

**}!{**

There was no light in the sanctuary, save for the faint rays of sunlight poking through the cracks of the aged temple ceiling. It was enough to reveal the lost coven of pureblooded vampires, they who long survived the centuries hidden away in the mountains of Ulthenwas, as they gathered around their prey. Serana and Mordred, finding themselves surrounded, chose to make a break for it.

"To hell with this, let's get out of here!"

"I concur." The dark elf acknowledged his companion's suggestion. Serana had her spells, Mordred had his gadgets, and together they unleashed a blinding barrage of magical explosions and searing hot grenade detonations that rocked the temple down to its foundations. Mordred's enchanted blade struck through the cloudy haze of smoke and ash, tearing through corrupted flesh as the panic-stricken vampires recoiled from the flames. Serana hurled bolts of lightning from her hands, attempting to scare the less bold ones of the coven. And though she made no reaction to it, the flames seared her skin as much as their enemies, burning her badly. Those who were quick to react vanished into swarms of bats that flung themselves at the vanquisher as he was the most vulnerable of the pair.

Tiny mouths sank their teeth into his face and neck, while talons raked across his eyelids and ears. Mordred grunted as something hard smashed into his left side, breaking a few of his ribs, though in the rush of the moment he failed to register. The vanquisher crouched low and shielded himself with his sword arm while he fished for an amulet hidden among the other artifacts he had collected over the years in his belt. He held up the faded piece of jewelry and squeezed hard against its cracked form, unleashing a corona of energy that throttled the swarm away from the pair. The bats screeched as they dispersed, and the vampires howled as they strained against the barrier forcing them to back away from the pair.

"Move!" Mordred yelled, "This thing won't last long!"

The dark elf spoke the truth, for already the amulet had spent its last bit of enchantment and soon after crumbled into nothing. The corona of energy faded with the extinguished artifact, and the horde surged forward with renewed vigor. As they made for a quick exit back the way they came, Mordred and Serana were brought to a screeching halt as another horde blocked their way.

Serana turned to Mordred, "Any other bright ideas?"

The dark elf's keen eyes darted to the left, and his experienced gaze sought out deliverance and found it within a hidden door, told upon by an obvious sconch hanging askew on its hinges. His hand reached for the last flash-bomb hanging on his belt, "Just the one." With a blinding flash that once again left the vampires dazed and confused, the pair disappeared into the hidden door, only to find themselves trapped once more as the stone door slid shut behind them.

Heaving a troubled breath, Mordred leaned back against the door and wheezed. "Merciful gods, that was a close one!"

"And now we're trapped." Serana said, throwing her hands up in despair. "With the only way out being through that fucking horde!"

"Calm yourself, girl." The dark elf sighed as he sat down. His free hand reached for the torch as it guttered and brought it close to fan the dying flames. Soon, the light filled the small tomb they were in, revealing a lone sarcophagus and a rich bounty of gold and jewels. "There's always another way."

"I suppose." Serana relented, wincing in silent agony as her burns bit at her skin. The funny thing about fire was that vampires, even elder or pureblooded ones, had such a weakness for it that even their enhanced regeneration proved to be useless in that aspect. And so, Serana suffered as any mortal would at the touch of flame.

Mordred noticed her pained expression and offered his aid, "Come here, let me see."

"It's nothing..." Serana, at first, refused his hand.

"Don't try the tough act, it doesn't suit you." Mordred said firmly, "Now, come here."

With a heavy sigh of exasperation, Serana acquiesced to his offer of help and sat down next to him. The vanquisher undid her bracers and pulled away gently at her sleeves. Upon seeing the extent of her injuries, Mordred's tongue clicked in disapproval. The skin, once pale and smooth as cream, now coiled and mottled like the creeping earth in the bogs. The fire roasted her flesh to black, and the burnt vessels oozed blood as the skin came away in sheets at his every touch.

With an angry hiss, Serana yanked her arms away from him, but found that she could not break his grip. Mordred was stronger than he looked, far far stronger than a mortal should be. His gaze fixed itself on hers, and he spoke soothingly as opposed to his usual gruff and abrasive demeanor. "Serana, please. Let me help you."

Calmed down, somewhat, Serana allowed her companion to return the favor. After all, Mordred himself suffered her aid in that town weeks prior, why shouldn't she for him? She watched curiously as Mordred took her dagger and drew it out of its sheath. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was about to do, but she made no effort to stop him. The blade descended with a faint swish, cutting deeply into one of Mordred's veins along the wrist. Red lifeblood flowed in a steady stream, calling to the vampire to feed.

With an unsure gaze, and a trembling lip as her hunger threatened to overwhelm her actions, Serana glanced up at Mordred to seek his affirmation. Finding it thus, Serana put her lips to his wrist and began suckling at the red river like a thirsting babe. The blood indeed overwhelmed her senses, the hunger flooding her mind until nothing else mattered but the need for its sating. She drank of his blood, and her ailing body used the life it was given, slowly healing her wounds over every mouthful.

"Enough."

Serana closed her eyes and moaned into his hand. She couldn't stop even if she wanted to. His blood tasted so good, and it had been too long since she last fed. The blood, so sweet, so fulfilling...

"Serana, you've had enough!"

The woman gathered all sense and pried herself off of the irate dunmer. Though her body longed for more of the precious fluid, she remained apologetic, as she realized she had allowed the hunger to get the better of her. She licked her lips and savored whatever was left to her, "Thank you..."

Mordred said nothing, but his disapproving glare spoke volumes.

"Forgive me, Mordred. I..." Serana sighed and fell silent. She knew she had overstepped.

"I suppose I should blame myself, for 'twas my offer in the first place." The vanquisher replied, adding firmly that his companion might know where he stood on the matter. "Take better care of yourself, I shan't offer my blood to you again."

Feeling rather dejected, Serana bowed her head in shame and nodded her assent. Satisfied that he made his point, Mordred broke the stillness of their reprieve and began lifting the lid off of the sarcophagus. His expression turned from grim to bemusement at his discovery. Interested in finding out what her companion discovered, Serana got up and followed him.

"What is it?"

Mordred didn't answer, but bent down to fumble around the heap of dust, bones and bandages. Under the dim light of slowly dying torch, he studied the contents further. He drew his sword and pounded the pommel down against the stone slab beneath the corpse, shattering the secret door barring the way into the bowels of the coven sanctuary. "Huh. Would you look at that?"

"Where do you suppose that leads to?" Serana asked.

Mordred glanced up at the door they just came through moments before, "Anywhere away from those bloodsucking fiends." Picking up his gear left on the floor, the dunmer lifted himself up over the edge of the sarcophagus and descended into the depths of the temple. Serana followed close behind, though pausing to carry the lid after her and slide it over the sarcophagus to cover their escape.

* * *

After what felt like an hour descending the ancient staircase, Mordred stopped to take a breath. The air had noticeably become thinner the lower they went, and it seemed to go on for miles and miles. "At this rate, I think you'll end up carrying me out of here."

"I wouldn't mind." Serana offered.

"I would." Mordred rasped, taking a moment to loosen his armor and shirt. Serana smelled the sweet scent of blood on him, but ignored it as she thought it came from the wound he made to give her some of his blood.

Having rested himself, the dark elf pressed onwards, this time lagging behind his vampire companion. Serana didn't seem at all that bothered as he, and it showed. Though he considered himself strong for his age and state, Mordred had his limits. Serana, being an undead and a vampire, lacked nothing for that particular situation. With a condescending smirk, she said to the weary vanquisher. "My offer still stands."

"Oh, shut the fuck up." Mordred growled.

"Now, be nice." Serana bent down to help her companion, half-dragging and half-lifting the dunmer through the gradually widening corridor they were in. The path opened up to a passage, blocked by a pile of rubble and sand from a collapsed ceiling. Setting Mordred down to inspect the ruin, Serana clawed at the dusty stones, intent on clearing a path. Working her way through the collapse took time, time enough for her companion to succumb to his unseen wounds and lose consciousness.

Straightening herself up, Serana turned her eyes to look at her friend. "Mordred?"

When he did not reply, Serana's concern for him grew and she bent down to rouse him from his stupor. "Mordred! Say something!"

No words nor strikes of the palm would wake the dying elf, already the woman could feel his life fading with each passing second. Something inside him broke from the fight and was killing him slowly. She knew that if she didn't move quickly to act, she would soon after get her wish and undertake her quest alone. In spite of her initial misgivings, Serana felt afraid to lose him now- a man she so detested yet relied on so much.

"Come on, then!" Serana groaned as she lifted the heavier man, "Onward!"

The vampire carried the vanquisher into the wilderness outside, freed at last from the secret passage, yet again at the mercy of the sun's burning glare. She ignored the intense heat of the Dragon's Eye, and focused on finding their mounts. When she arrived at the foot of the mount, however, the horses were nowhere to be found. From every crag, rock and hill, she scoured to gain salvation. Precious minutes were lost to searching in vain for the lost horses, and Serana cursed her luck.

On the verge of giving up, Serana collapsed to her knees.

Her head hung in defeat, and Serana cradled her dying friend's head on her lap. "I'm so sorry, Mordred..."

Half-lidded eyes stared up at her, dry and bloodied lips murmured an incoherent whisper. His gaze turned outwards, and with a weak and shaky hand, Mordred pointed to the dunes beyond where a hooded figure stood with the lost mounts. Serana's eyes followed and she saw more hooded figures ascend the dune. Their leader pulled on the reins of the horses and approached the fallen adventurers.

Wary of their true nature, should they be raiders, Serana prepared to cast a spell. "Stay back, I'm warning you just this once!"

"Child." A woman's voice, ancient with an implacable accent, addressed the vampire. "Your friend's life fades, and you would raise your hand against those who could save him?"

Desperate to keep Mordred alive, Serana allowed her spell to fade and she made way to allow the hooded strangers to carry him to safety. "I trust his life in your hands, strangers." Serana declared, "Take care, should you think of betraying me."

Seeing her fangs bared, many of the hooded figures moved to unsheathe their weapons, uttering the hated word. "Vampire!"

"A dark sister has escaped the coven!"

"Mother, shall we kill her now?"

"Stay your hands, daughters." The leader replied, holding back the corners of her hood to reveal part of her face to the bristling Serana. Her eyes held the wisdom of her years, immeasurable in their number, and as beautiful as the blue sky. "This is not one of those lost to Molag Bal's influence. She does not carry the hunger as her kin would usually do."

"I call no vampire my kin." Serana corrected her swiftly.

"My point exactly." Those blue eyes twinkled thoughtfully, "Come, child. Come with us to sanctuary, lest you catch your death in all this heat."

Choosing to follow their mysterious benefactor, Serana asked. "Who are you?"

"I am Lamae Beolfag."

* * *

The aforementioned sanctuary, a sandblasted longhouse pieced together from ruined river-boats and tied with thick rusty chains, sat at the edge of an oasis. A mess of natural land barriers kept the shelter safe from prying eyes, hidden well from the world like so many lost treasures. Here, herds of goats drank from the life-giving waters and grazed on the vibrant green grass that sprouted from the burning sand, tended by the daughters of the former Dark Matron of Vampirism. It was here that Lamae Bal, or rather better known as Lamae Beolfag, played host to the pair of adventurers who searched for her for so long.

Mordred was taken into the house to have his injuries looked after, while Serana stayed close by him, anxious to see any improvement.

"I find myself curious, child." Lamae said as she removed her cowl, unleashing a waterfall of snowy-white hair to cascade down her neck and shoulders. Seizing a binder, she tied her long hair into a neat little bun, away from her beautiful face. Though the years had weathered her features "What brings you so far into this wasteland?" One of her daughters offered a basin with cool water for her to wash in, and she stirred her hands to clean them of the dirt borne from their journey through the wilderness.

Mordred groaned on the cot he was settled in, and Serana reached for his hand for him to squeeze, whispering softly in reassurance. "It won't be long now..." She turned to answer Lady Beolfag. "We were looking for you, actually."

"Why? Looking to kill me, perhaps?" Lady Beolfag asked nonchalantly, her lack of caution surprising Serana as she observed the woman's demeanor. It was as if Lamae Beolfag had gotten so used to being hunted down that she no longer feared the hunters who preyed after her. It was either a nonchalance born of indifference, or because Lamae was more powerful than they realized that she needn't fear anyone else.

Mordred's cuirass was then removed, followed by his shirt, revealing his rapidly discoloring side with three nasty cuts along the lowest ribs. His lung had collapsed, pierced by a stray piece of bone when his ribcage shattered on impact. Blood continued to fill his chest, threatening to drown him in a sea of red.

"No." Serana said slowly, "We came looking for answers."

"Answers to what, pray tell?" Lady Beolfag, having prepared for the task set for her, laid her hands on the wounded dunmer and began casting an advanced healing spell.

"Answers to how I can cure my vampirism."

The elder woman looked up at her and smiled, showing her teeth to the vampire, revealing the lack of their vampiric fangs. Serana's eyes were wide as saucers upon seeing this, and Lamae continued. "In all my years, I've never heard of someone looking to forsake the darkness wrought upon them by the Prince of Domination." Her gaze studied Serana intently, "You bear his mark, as I once did."

Hope filled Serana's heart, and she blurted out in excitement. "And you don't have it...not anymore?"

Lamae nodded, pausing to finish her work with Mordred. "It wasn't easy, but I managed to free myself and my daughters from the curse. Though, I cannot take all the credit. I could never have done it without the Iron Halo."

"The Iron Halo? How come?"

"A long story." Lamae replied, inspecting her charge carefully before turning to retire for the day. "One that I'd prefer to tell over dinner. Your friend should be fine now. Please, make yourselves at home while I and my daughters prepare a meal." She disappeared into the kitchen with the rest of the assisting girls in tow.

Left alone with her companion, Serana played the part of a doting mother hen well as she refused to leave Mordred's side. There was some noticeable improvement in him following the work of Lady Beolfag. The vanquisher stirred, then opened his eyes. The crippling pain in his side was gone, and he found that he could breathe again with ease. Mordred swung his feet over the cot and sat up, puzzled at how the two of them ended up in the longhouse.

"Where are we?" He muttered, scratching the back of his head in confusion. "What happened?"

"We found her, Mordred." Serana replied, "We found Lamae Bal, or rather, she found us."

"I don't understand." The dark elf said, "Shouldn't I be dead, if she did?"

"Indeed you do not understand." The vampire explained, "Lamae Bal saved your life." Her answer added more confusion to the man's growing concern.

"This day just gets better and better." He mused, "Fine, she's definitely not what I expected. What happens now?"

"Now, we play the honored guests." Serana declared, "Lamae wants us to join her for dinner, and we're doing just that."

"Does she hold the answers you seek?"

"We'll find out soon enough."

* * *

Mordred sat in silent awe as he studied each of the young, beautiful faces present at the longtable that night. All were once vampires, his most hated foes, now sitting about him no more nor any less than the average mortal. And Lamae Beolfag, who sat at the head of the table with Serana at her side, the woman whom all vampires were born from, now too stood as mortal as he. His eyes turned to the massive shrines erected in honor of Arkay, the God of the Cycles and Rebirth, and his brow arched in bemusement. Lamae Bal had been known to hate Arkay with a passion that exceeded mortal hearts, and seeing her like this, honoring a god she supposedly hated and pleasantly dining with strangers...

His questions would have their answers in time, for while they dined, Serana wasted no time in getting their host to impart her secrets with them.

"So how exactly did the Iron Halo help you regain your humanity?" The vampire asked, "Last I checked, they weren't too keen on aiding vampires in anything."

Lamae Bal smiled, "It wasn't the entire guild, but one hunter in fact. Many a century following my descent, and after hundreds of my...kin were eradicated, I and my daughters were forced into hiding. It was here, in the wastes of Ulthenwas, did I chance meet the hunter who would change my life and undo the travesty Molag Bal had done to me."

"Who was he?"

"His name was Argaeus." Lamae Bal sighed, obviously stung by the feeling of loss. "He was a good man, and a good servant of Arkay. Where once I felt only hatred for a god forsaking his faithful, my eyes were opened to the truth. Molag Bal's touch kept me from the warmth of Arkay for so long, and my hate for him only drove him further, but even then he did not abandon me. Through Argaeus, I was shown Arkay's infinite mercy and again I felt the goodness of his light."

Her words were lacking details, but Serana cared little for it. She allowed Lamae Bal to lament and bask in the memories of the past, and only focused on getting to know how exactly Lamae Bal was cured of her vampirism. "What did he show you?"

"Molag Bal sought to profane all that met his gaze, and desecrated what Arkay held most dear- the act from which life comes." Lamae Bal explained. "His Daughters of Coldharbour, his insult to the Cycle of Life...though what has been marred can never be made whole, not even he can ever truly substitute that beautiful sacrament."

"What...what are you talking about?" Serana asked, genuinely confused.

Lamae Bal said, "You sought the answer to undo what has been forced upon you, let the answer come plainly to you now." The elder woman turned her gaze to Mordred, who looked on with growing discomfort.

"So..." Mordred blurted, "You're asking me to fuck her?"

Blushing furiously, Serana cried out. "I would rather die!" Storming out of the longhouse, she disappeared into the night, leaving Mordred at the table cackling like a madman.

"Well, I've had to do worse."

**}!{**


	6. Wastes of Hammerfell

**}!{**

Mordred stared out at the open door after his mortified companion, casually bringing up a cup to his lips to sip at the warm juice swirling within. A moment later, he turned his attention back to his host, intent on prying out whatever details were missed in their conversation.

"So that's it, then?" The dunmer asked, "That's the cure for Serana's affliction, a simple romp in the hay? I'd always imagined it would've been a lot more complicated than that."

"Would that it were so simple." Lamae Bal replied, "No. The act alone is not enough, the union must be consecrated by the blessings of Arkay. The corruption of Molag Bal runs deeper than the boundaries of flesh. Her soul belongs to him, but that does not mean it cannot be redeemed." The matriarch raised her hands outward, referring to her daughters. "All souls belong to Arkay, the Keeper of the Cycle and guardian of our souls. With his blessing, your friend may be freed from her curse."

Even with her explanation, Mordred was just as skeptical as before. "And you're sure this will work?" He glanced around at the women sitting at the table with him, "Gods, now I'm curious how you all were cured of your vampirism. I'd imagine the men you brought here would've asked the same questions."

"There were no other men." One of the women spoke up, "Argaeus did it all himself."

Mordred stared at her in disbelief, "The ritual? With all of you? Huh...lucky bastard." Lamae Bal smirked, though looking a bit sad at some memory evoked by the mention of the man's name. Mordred asked her another question, "I suppose that should give me confidence in our chances of success, but I have to ask, are there any side effects I should know about? A ritual like this usually involves the matter of cost."

"That is what separates Arkay from Molag Bal, for he does not ask for much." Lamae Bal replied, "He smiles upon your intentions, how you strive to cleanse the world of abominations. He shall smile upon this act as well."

When she noticed that the vanquisher remained a tad unconvinced, she called him out for it. "You are still unsure. You should not think it so difficult an act, for it is a kindness. A kindness that shall only cost you a few hours, and will perhaps bring you happiness. Do you not love your friend enough to sacrifice your dignity that she might be cured?"

Mordred shook his head slowly, "You mistake my relationship with Serana, my lady."

"Oh? Have I?"

"I suppose it doesn't matter." Mordred sighed.

Lamae Bal had this knowing look in her eye, but she made no move to pry. "Talk it over, the both of you. This is not, after all, something only one of you should make of a decision alone."

Excusing himself from the table, Mordred got up and walked out of the house. He didn't have to walk far to find Serana. He found her, standing over a single grave covered in blossoming desert flowers. The gravestone had been carved beautifully, with the ancient Nedeian words spelling out the name of someone the women of the house held dear. Serana had a deep frown on her pale face, but it wasn't the desert heat that irked her so. Hearing him approach made the woman tense, and upon noticing this, Mordred kept his distance.

They stood there in silence for a long time, standing at a meter apart.

Both opened their mouths to speak, but only Mordred found his voice. "I suppose now we've found one of the last Iron Halo hunters left in the world. I'd say he's more fortunate than the rest of us, dying here surrounded by a grateful lot."

"You must be enjoying this." Serana said.

"If I were a fool, I would be." Mordred replied, "But as it turns out, I've been blessed with something immortals have mostly forgotten."

Serana turned around to face him, "That would be what exactly?"

"The power of observation." The dunmer closed the distance until he was but a foot away from his companion. "You don't want to go through the ritual because you're afraid of the memories it might bring." His eyes stared deep into hers, and as he spoke Serana felt herself become vulnerable- something she hated feeling whenever being around anyone. "When you had gone through that ritual that turned you into a Daughter of Coldharbour, it cost you something far more precious to you than the power Molag Bal promised you."

Serana's eyes blinked and twitched as she struggled to put down the hated memories. Her voice trembled, "Why are you bringing this up, Mordred?"

"He stole from you your innocence." Mordred said, "No, you offered it to him- and he broke you."

His words stung, perhaps not as he meant it to, but they stung nonetheless. Serana's tone grew hot and she growled as she fought hard to keep her composure, "Drop the fucking issue, Mordred!"

"I will not." Mordred's voice, in contrast to hers, grew quiet. "Your quest for a cure dragged us across Tamriel, and now that we've found it...you hesitate. Looking at you now, I'd say my observation's on point."

"Drop." Serana hissed. "It."

"No." Mordred was quick to notice her hand rise and caught her wrist. They struggled for a bit, with Mordred putting all his strength in stopping the offending hand and Serana barely even trying. She was stronger than him, and he knew it. The woman was acting out of impulse, lost to the stormclouds forming in her head, which could either mean he was playing this right or setting himself up to join Argaeus in the grave.

"You know I'm right, Serana."

"Fuck you!" Serana screamed, fighting back her tears. "You dirty coward! How dare you use my pain against me!"

His free hand grasped her by the nape as he forced her to look at him when she turned away, "I dare because before you now stands a battle, a battle against your demons- and you are losing. I owe a debt to our mutual friend, now I owe one to you. I aim to repay in full."

"Let go of me!" The vampire snarled, pulling herself free from the dark elf and vanishing into a red mist. When the mist dispersed, Serana had gone, disappearing into the night and leaving Mordred alone to wonder if he attained the desired effect.

* * *

Serana was furious. The volkihar vampire raced through the desert under the guise of a swarm of bats, her mind confused with a stormcloud of thoughts and emotions. She, like Mordred, expected the same thing out of her quest. A convoluted ritual, an artifact of some kind, a favor from one of the divines or the less benevolent daedra.

In all his brutal honesty, Mordred's words rang true in her mind. There was no escaping it.

Here stood the undoing of her curse, but what was expected of her required something she had failed time and time again to do. Like the insufferable dunmer said, she had to face her inner demons. The thought alone weighed heavily on her, and Serana reformed, stopping at the crest of a large sand dune to look up at the beautiful starry sky.

Only the howl of the desert wind and the mournful call of the beasts of the night could be heard at that moment. If her heart still beat, Serana would've heard its hammering as it pounded against her chest. After what felt like an hour, the vampire considered what lay before her.

She knew she had to go through with it. This was, after all, what she sought after.

It was no easy task, to even consider doing. Even after standing up against her father all those years ago, helping the Dawnguard to destroy the only family she ever had- none of which truly broke the infernal chain Molag Bal placed on her soul. What she was about to do now was the true test of her will.

To rejoin the world of the living, or to forever stand as one of Coldharbour's slaves.

"I am no one's slave." Serana said, finally coming to a decision. Molag Bal's hold on her soul ends today.

She thought about Mordred, and the more she did, her anger for him gradually faded away. Beyond the rough exterior, there was a man who had shown her kindness. He didn't take her struggles lightly as most did, and now that she thought about it, Serana realized Mordred actually cared about her. Just like the Dragonborn, in the brief time she knew him he had done more for her than most she had known her whole life. A friend who would do anything for her, even risk her wrath by showing her the path to salvation.

Perhaps, if she was honest with herself, he meant more than that to her.

Serana felt herself blush at the thought, chastising herself for her assumptions. "One step at a time, girl." She said to herself, "One step at a time."

* * *

Upon returning to the longhouse, Serana found Mordred packing up to leave. Her sudden departure undoubtedly made him think their journey together had come to an end, but when he saw her at the doorway he stopped. The dunmer let her speak first.

"I'm going through with it."

Mordred said nothing, merely nodding once to acknowledge her decision.

"Mordred." Serana moved closer, free to speak her mind as they were alone in the room. "Before we...proceed...there's something I want you to know." She waited a bit to see if he was indeed listening, "I appreciate that you try to understand my pain, even if you're not fully getting there. Some wounds don't heal quickly, and some scars never truly disappear."

There was that sad look in his eyes as he stared at her. "You poor broken thing."

Serana closed her eyes and shook her head, "Please, be gentle when you..." She stopped when she felt his hands touch her shoulders.

"Yes." His voice, something she had grown accustomed to sound harsh, grating and painful, now soothed like the gentle rush of a running brook. It caught her off guard. "I promise, whatever makes you feel comfortable."

Serana smiled, still not daring to open her eyes lest the tears fall freely. "Thank you."

"Do you need a hug?"

She opened her eyes in surprise, not even noticing the salty trickle running down the sides of her face. His offer seemed in good faith, and right now she felt she needed one of those. "Yes please."

He drew her in, wrapping her up in his massive arms. There, Serana felt at peace. He didn't say it, nor needed to say it, but she knew he loved her. Not the false feeling of attraction that most people felt to one another, it was just simply as it was. It was faint, like a sprouting seedling barely showing its first leaf after a hard rain on dry land. Faint, but there.

Serana found herself wondering if she had the courage to cultivate it. As she stood there held close to his warm, beating chest, Serana wondered if there was something more to them beyond this quest that bound them.

She had to know. Serana pushed herself up a bit off his chest and opened her mouth to say something, but before the words could come, Lady Bal chanced upon the two and spoke first. "Shall I make preparations?"

Embarassed, Serana broke off and hid her face from all who were present. Seeing her discomfort, Mordred spoke on her behalf. "Yes, my lady."

"That is good." Lamae Bal said, smiling to herself. "When you are ready, we shall meet at the back of the house, in the shrine. I shall begin communing with Arkay to bless the ritual." With that said, she left.

One of her daughters spoke with Serana, offering her a better change of clothing should she prefer something more comfortable than her battle regalia. "We have robes stored in the wardrobes, if you're interested."

"Um, yes I'll have a change." Serana glanced up at Mordred, looking a bit flushed in spite of herself. To cover her embarrassment, she uttered a snarky remark. "And you, keep those on. I think it might improve the mood."

Mordred rolled his eyes and walked out the door, following Lamae Bal into the gardens where the shrine erected in honor of Arkay was found.

* * *

The air was surprisingly hot that night. The perfect kind of heat, just enough to set off the chill of the desert wind blowing from the east. Serana's red robe swayed about with each waft, and against the orange glow of the candles lit about in the garden and the light of the moon in the sky above, her pale complexion made her look like a ghost.

A beautiful ghost, to Mordred's eyes.

He waited for her next to a bed covered with furs and adorned with soft pillows. The bed sat in the middle of the garden, right next to a stone shrine dedicated to the patron of life and rebirth. Beside it stood a curious-looking bottle filled with emerald green water. Lamae Bal and her daughters were nowhere to be seen. They were all alone, with only the gods to watch their actions that night.

His armor and shirt were gone, chest bared with only his leather pants to cover his body.

Serana's pace slowed as her eyes took in the powerful figure standing before her. That same figure would be on top of her sometime that night, and just the thought of it made her feel funny down there. Her courage wavered, and Serana struggled against her instinct to flee. Biting her lip out of habit when she felt distressed, Serana distracted herself from her doubts, all thoughts suddenly coming to a screeching halt when the towering form of the dark elf loomed over her.

"Mordred, I-I..." Serana stammered, squeaking in surprise when Mordred tilted her head back and mashed his lips against hers.

His touch was firm and testing, like one would tread around the crypts of sleeping draugr. Words would not assure her, so he chose to act. When he felt no resistance from her, he felt satisfaction in his success. Mordred was no gentleman but he tried to be one nonetheless. His searching, conquering hands moved from her arms to her shoulders. He tugged at the silk threads holding her dress together, eliciting a quiet moan from her when he brushed against her neck.

She felt the fabric resist against his pull, and moved to help. "Don't tear the robe, it doesn't belong to me."

A few more tugs and the dress fell. Mordred grunted in mock frustration upon seeing her still dressed in her underwear. Picking her up with ease, he carried her over to the bed and laid her out on the furs. He wasted no time doing away with the offending fabric, and once she lay there in all her naked splendor, Mordred slowed down to fully appreciate the beautiful creature before him.

From her fine, shapely legs to the wide curve of her hips; from her succulent breasts to her glazed, expectant face- the sight of it all made Mordred feel as though he were lost in a trance.

He rode as a passenger, with instinct directing his body's motions.

His mouth assaulted her nethers, tasting the sweet and salty tang of her moist cunt before enveloping the little bud on the top with his lips. Serana hissed and uttered a long throaty moan at the waves of ecstasy running up her spine. Mordred, true to his word about making her feel as comfy as possible, waited until moist became frothing before inserting his fingers into her sopping orifice.

He felt the folds part and pull at his touch. Transfixed, he watched as Serana's back arched, her moans coming apart with breathless gasps. The vampire uttered a whispered oath, her head lolling from side to side as Mordred slowly pumped his hand back and forth. A few minutes later, he stopped. Mordred brought his hand up to lap at the juices covering his fingers. Like a hungry bear savoring honey, his eyes glowed with excitement.

Readying herself for him, Serana pulled a few pillows to rest her head and neck on before spreading her legs to welcome him in.

Mordred got up and removed his pants. The long throbbing member jumped out of his undergarments, as though eager to introduce itself to her. Serana swallowed the lump forming in her throat, feeling nervous as she imagined the unspeakable things he might do to her with that thing all night.

As he crawled atop of her, Serana said quietly. "Remember..."

"I know." Mordred whispered soothingly as he kissed her cheek. "I'll try to be gentle."

Before she knew it, the thing was already inside her.

Her back arched again, and Serana gasped in shock at the sudden wave that slapped her mind from a drunken haze to sober wakefulness. "Oh gods!"

Mordred let her take a moment to settle down, showering her face with affectionate kisses before moving his hips back. He made love to her, spurred on by the sounds of delight coming from her agape and smiling mouth. High on the feeling, Mordred fucked her with a gusto that matched his fiery passion. His ever roaming hands reached for Serana's ankles, and he lifted her legs off the bed to rest on his right shoulder. With her thighs pressed together that way, her tightness grew ever more suffocating, and Mordred growled out a low, guttural sound of approval.

His harsh, brutish nature stood in stark contrast to the mewling, fragile thing lying spread out before him. As the hour grew late, and the candles burned out, only the moon shone upon the lovely scene in the garden. Mordred's glistening form of dark grey, with Serana's pale form- one might mistake the two for the night and its moon incarnate.

Suddenly, Serana felt something hot and wet gush deep inside her.

Surprised, she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked up at Mordred. The dark elf's chest was heaving, and he bent forward over her, resting himself with his arms against the bed. Serana smiled, not in the least disappointed with him. Her hands snaked around his neck and back as she held him to herself. She whined as the hot, throbbing member slid free from her nethers, leaving a messy trail of white fluid to pour out of her.

"So..." She said, looking into his eyes gratefully. "We're done?"

Mordred looked at her in disbelief, "Do you...feel any different?"

Serana opened her mouth, using her tongue to feel at her fangs. Her heart sank as she realized nothing was changed. "No." She gently pushed Mordred off of her, "Thanks for helping me try, at least."

Mordred stared at her, still deep in thought. Serana laid down on her side, saddened by the lack of success of their joining but relieved that she could feel loved in spite of it.

The dark elf glanced at the bottle sitting on the ground below and reached for it. He opened the bottle, sniffed at the sweet concoction within and drank from it.

"What's that for?" Serana asked.

"I don't know. Lamae Bal said it would help with my performance." Mordred said with a shrug, "I don't know what she meant by that exactly but..." The dark elf stopped in mid-sentence, feeling his heart beat faster. His face grew hot, and his muscles grew taut. Before long, his cock that hung between his thighs jumped back to life as the blood rushed through its veins.

"Oh." They said in unison.

Serana laughed heartily and rolled over to her stomach. Still slick from his earlier ministrations, Serana readily received Mordred and the two resumed their joining. Minutes later, her moans turned to screams as caution was thrown to the wind. Mordred was no longer as gentle as he was before, but Serana couldn't care less.

She had never felt anything like this before. She had never dared let anyone get that far. Now that she had him, closer than she'd imagined he would be, she regretted nothing.

Mordred lifted her to her knees and fucked her from behind, raising her up that her back might rest against his chest while his arms would possessively wrap around her waist and neck. His kisses grew furious and demanding, leaving a fiery trail from her shoulders to her throat. Kissing her neck in that particular way tickled Serana, and her shoulders bunched up as he mercilessly nipped at her tender flesh.

"Ow! Hey!" She whimpered.

Mordred offered no apology, growling like a rabid dog as he fucked her even harder than before. Serana reveled in the lustful attentions of her partner, feeling an unfamiliar knot grow at the pit of her stomach. She was nearing the edge, and she knew it. When she opened her mouth to say something, all she uttered was unintelligible gibberish. Later, Mordred's fingers found their way into her mouth, preventing her from saying anything. Her lips moved on their own, and she sucked on the salty digits that once plundered her sex.

With a fleeting thought, she thanked Lamae Bal for the bottle.

Growing tired, Mordred moved to lie at his side. Clumsily, he pulled Serana to spoon in with him. The woman found the position favorable, as she rested herself on the soft pillows. Mordred kept thrusting his hips inward, also nearing his end.

Serana reached up behind her to caress his cheek. Her fingers brushed at prickly stubble, but found a welcoming kiss from his attentive lips. The woman moaned with a raising pitch as she teetered on the edge. Mordred got the hint and pulled her on top of him. One hand reached down to rub at her swollen clit, while the other viciously mauled her breast.

Serana clung to his arms and hung her head back lazily, completely left to the dark elf's mercy. She cried out as she leapt off that edge, bucking wildly as though she was struck by lightning. Mordred held her there firmly, but didn't stop fucking her until he got his second.

The woman, having achieved satisfaction, slowly pushed herself off Mordred. The dark elf slowed his pace as he watched her squat over his member, only to plop down to take it up to the hilt. Mordred groaned at this, and gave her ass a light slap of approval. Serana giggled and grinded herself over him, relishing in hearing his tortured moans.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Mordred said weakly.

Serana said nothing, pausing to look back at him as she raised herself up to slam down against him. Her smile grew as she felt Mordred's thumb brush against her anus. She cooed as he pressed on it, then moaned as it dug deep into her dry cavern. "Oww..."

"Yeah, you like that?" Mordred asked, raising Serana up to pull himself out of her. The thick, bulbous head refused to leave the woman, but after a hard tug, it slid free with a soft pop. Still slick with both their essences, Mordred pushed his cock into Serana's ass.

The woman hissed, frowning deeply at her partner but otherwise allowing him into her unguarded posterior. "Slowly..."

"Gods, that's tight!" Mordred moaned, supporting Serana's weight while she fucked him.

Anal sex wasn't as pleasurable as Serana would've liked, but Mordred seemed to like it, so she let him have the luxury. And unlike that harrowing ritual performed on her by her hated enemy, Serana's partner was careful not to tear at her flesh. Soon, Mordred released his load, coating her guts with his warm essence as he did her sex. Having done its job, and with the effects of the potion gone, Mordred's cock slipped out of her ass.

Satisfied and winded, Serana got off and crawled to lie beside her friend. With the ritual over and done with, all Serana wanted to do now was to cuddle.

"I don't think this is working." She sighed as she melted into Mordred's arms.

"Perhaps. Though, I don't regret doing it." Mordred replied.

"I don't either." Serana said, hesitating a bit before asking the question. "Mordred, do you love me?"

Mordred, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. "I do." It was as though he was waiting for her to ask.

"Do you really? Even if I'm a vampire?"

"I've never told you this, but this isn't the first time I've met a vampire who regretted becoming one." Mordred confessed, "So to answer your question, yes. Yes, Serana, I would love you even if you're a vampire. Dare I assume you would feel the same, for one who's made a living slaughtering your kin?"

"I hold no loyalty to those you call my 'kin'." Serana said with a shrug, "But yes, I love this vampire hunter."

"Ah, then this quest of yours isn't a total loss after all."

Serana snuggled closer and laid her head on his chest. "Yes, I suppose so." A little while later, Serana went to sleep, leaving Mordred to think on what they had started that night. He had known love once, in a lifetime ago, he wondered if one can get rusty over something like this. As he drifted off the sleep, he noticed a faint glow above him.

At first, he dismissed it as the sunrise peeking out of the horizon at early morning. Yet, the rays were different. Mordred gently set Serana aside and sat up, squinting hard as he watched the stone shrine of Arkay glow with divine light. He looked down at Serana and noticed a symbol slowly form on her chest. If she felt anything, it wasn't enough to notice, for as the symbol grew to make that of Arkay's divine star, Serana made no reaction whatsoever.

The symbol, like Arkay's shrine, glowed bright before fading. It left an exquisite mark, almost like a tattoo, where it lay on her chest.

After that, the god's decree made itself evident. Serana's pale skin turned to lively pink, then gold as the early sunlight touched her naked body. Mordred looked on in wonder as life returned to the undead before him, Arkay reclaiming a soul stolen by Molag Bal. His hand reached forward to touch her lips, and when he lifted them he saw her fangs recede into her jaws.

At his touch, Serana awoke. Her eyes, that once glowed red with the fell influence of Oblivion, now stared up at him with kind, beautiful green orbs.

"What?"

"Serana, get up." Mordred said, showing her the sun as it rose up into the sky. "Tell me, how do you feel?"

At first unsure of what he meant, Serana looked about her in confusion. Then, she felt it.

Her heart beating at her chest, her skin feeling the warmth of the sun without prickling up from its punishing gaze. Her blood no longer boiled from the wrath of Akatosh, her throat no longer burned with the insatiable thirst for blood.

She was cured!

Her stomach growled.

She was also hungry.

**}!{**


End file.
